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THE  PLAYS  OF 
HENRY  ARTHUR  JONES 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF 
THE  PHILISTINES 

AND  HOW  MR,  JORGAN  PRESERVED  THE 

MORALS  OF  MARKET  PEWBURY  UNDER 

VERY  TRYING  CIRCUMSTANCES 


H 


In  Ubree  Bets 


BY 


HENRY   ARTHUR   JONES 

AUTHOR    OF 

'THE  LIARS,"  "MICHAEL  AND  HIS  LOST   ANGEL,''  "THE  TEMPTER, 

"THE   CRUSADERS,"  "JUDAH,"    "THE   CASE  OF    REBELLIOUS 

SUSAN,"    "THE    DANCING     GIRL,"    "THE    MIDDLEMAN," 

"THE  ROGUE'S  COMEDY,"  "THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE 

PHILISTINES,"  "THE  MASOUERADERS,"  "THE 

MANOEUVRES  OF  JANE,"   "CARNACSAHIB," 

"THE  GOAL,"  "MRS.  DANE'S  DEFENCE," 

"THE  LACKEY'S  CARNIVAL,"  "THE 

PRINCESS'S     NOSE,"    ETC. 


COPYRIGHT,  1899,  BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 


PRICE  50  CENTS 


NEW  YORK 
SAMUEL  FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 
28-30  WIST  38™  STREET 


LONDON 
SAMUEL  FRENCH,  LTD. 

26  SOUTHAMPTON  ST., 
STRAND 


-3-n 


THE  TRIUMPH   OF  THE 
PHILISTINES 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE 
PHILISTINES 


AND  HOW  MR.  JORGAN  PRESERVED  THE  MORALS 

OF  MARKET  PEWBURY  UNDER  VERY 

TRYING  CIRCUMSTANCES 


A  COMEDY  IN  THREE  ACTS 


BY 

HENRY    ARTHUR    JONES 

AUTHOR  OF 
I  THS  TEMPTER)'  «  THE  CRUSADERS,'  '  THE  CASE  OF  REBELLIOUS  SUSAN,' 

'THE  MIDDLEMAN,'   'THE  DANCING  GIRL,'   'JUDAH,'   'THE 
MASQUERADERS,'  '  THE  LIARS,'  '  THE  ROGUE'S  COMEDY,' 

'  TH»  PHYSICIAN,'    '  THE  GOAL,'    '  THE   MANOEUVRES 

OF  JANE,'    '  MICHAEL  AND  HIS   LOST  ANGEL,' 

ETC. 


COPYRIGHT,  1899,  BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 


CAUTION— This  play  is  fully  protected  under  the  copyright  laws 
of  the  United  States,  is  subject  to  royalty,  and  any  one  pre- 
senting the  play  without  the  consent  of  the  author  or  his 
agents  will  be  liable  to  penalty  under  the  law.  All  applications 
for  amateur  performances  must  be  made  to  SAMUEL  FRENCH, 
28-30  West  38th  Street,  New  York  City. 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


NEW  YORK 
SAMUEL  FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

28-30  WEST  38TH  STREET 


LONDON 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  LTD. 

26  SOUTHAMPTON  STREET  J 

STRAND 


PREFACE 

I  NOTICE,  on  the  rare  •ccasions  when  I  go  to  church, 
that  I  roll  aloft  the  Psalms  of  David  with  a  livelier 
and  lustier  relish  than  any  of  my  neighbours  in  the 
adjacent  pews.  I  wish  I  could  claim  that  this  lyric 
ecstasy  arises  from  a  superfoetation  of  British  godliness 
within  me,  swelling  me  to  a  proud  and  just  conceit 
of  my  superiority  to  all  the  sinners  around  me.  But, 
alas  !  it  comes  from  no  such  praiseworthy  motive,  and 
is  indeed  nothing  but  the  natural  exaltation  of  an 
English  dramatist  on  getting  some  clue  to  his  country- 
men's notions  on  the  subject  of  morality.  For  these 
worshippers  who  are  chanting  the  songs  of  a  treacherous 
murderer,  a  liar,  and  an  adulterer  —  a  man  after 
God's  own  heart,  as  the  Scriptures  say — a  treacherous 
murderer,  a  liar,  and  an  adulterer, — a  royal  man  for 
all  that, — I  say,  these  good  worshippers  who  are  so 
naively  employed  are  the  same  average  English  play- 
goers who  in  the  autumn  of  1894  arose  in  a  panic  of 


3.9881.7 


viii       THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

wrathful  zeal  for  the  morality  of  our  stage,  and  in  a 
series  of  letters  to  the  Times  overwhelmed  for  a  year 
or  two  the  rising  school  of  English  drama.  And  it 
pleases  me  more  than  I  can  say  to  hear  these  same 
good  folks  thus  sweetly  discoursing  the  songs  of  the 
royal  murderer,  liar,  and  adulterer,  in  the  same  way 
that  it  pleases  me  to  see  the  elders  of  the  Scotch 
Kirk  join  in  the  national  memorial  to  Robert  Burns. 
And  so,  on  the  rare  occasions  when  I  go  to  church,  I 
roll  aloft  these  Psalms  with  a  glad  heart  and  a  loud 
voice,  for  then  I  get  a  clue  to  the  essential  notions 
of  my  countrymen  on  morality.  And  what  are  these 
notions  in  reality  but  an  echo  of  Nature's  own  voice  ? 
Listen  to  the  melodious  throb  of  her  incessant 
chime,  "  Vitality  is  morality  !  Morality  is  vitality  ! 
Vitality  is  morality  !  Morality  is  vitality  !  " 

Fortified  by  the  possession  of  this  clue  to  the 
essential  notions  of  my  countrymen  on  morality,  and 
having  duly  read  and  pondered  the  letters  in  the 
Times,  I  wrote  The  Triumph  of  the  Philistines.  The 
severe  ethical  purpose  underlying  its  conception  was 
never  perceived,  and  I  may  perhaps  be  allowed  to 
point  it  out. 

I  had  been  constantly  accused  of  preaching  in 
my  plays,  and  had  never  been  able  to  discover  on 
what  foundation  this  accusation  rested.  Probably  it 


PREFACE 


arose  from  the,  fact  that  for  siary  yr*rs  I  had  been 
reiterating  a  few  vsiy  plain,  simple  rules  which  will 
fc*ve  to  be  comprehended  and  acted  upon  before  we 
CLii  pietend  to  have  anything  worthy  to  be  called 
an  English  national  drama.  But  there  is  no  more 
preaching  in  these  rules  than  there  would  be  if,  in  a 
degenerate  and  degraded  condition  of  carpentry,  a 
carpenter  were  to  give  a  few  simple  rules  in  the  art 
of  making  honest  tables  and  window-sashes.  But  it 
is  the  habit  of  the  Englishman  to  sniff  for  doctrine 
everywhere. 

The  late  William  Morris  held  Socialist  meetings 
at  Kelmscott  House  on  Sunday  evenings.  A 
Hammersmith  woman  with  a  luminous  notion  of  his 
peculiar  tenets  was  seen  to  point  out  his  house  to  a 
neighbour,  exclaiming  at  the  same  time,  "There's 
where  the  good  gentleman  lives  that's  so  kind  to  the 
poor  !  And  he  has  a  Sunday  school  every  Sunday 
evening  !  "  With  the  same  luminous  notion  of  what  I 
had  been  saying  about  the  drama,  the  accusation  of 
preaching  in  my  plays  was  continually  parroted  by 
criticism,  and  was  at  length  repeated  by  the  venerable 
Quarterly  Review. 

Now  no  right-minded  man  would  assault  his 
grandmother.  Nor  would  any  right  -  minded  man 
be  guilty  of  offering  an  indignity  or  impertinence 


X  THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

to  a  figure  so  appealing  in  its  senility,  and  so 
protected  by  immemorial  prescriptive  right  of  utter- 
ing the  wrong  word  in  criticism,  as  the  Quarterly 
Review. 

And  I  hope  that,  however  low  I  may  henceforth 
be  classed  as  a  playwright,  justice  will  at  least  be 
done  to  my  kindness  of  heart  and  my  reverent  fore- 
thought for  the  aged,  as  witnessed  by  the  fact  that 
many  months  before  the  article  in  the  Quarterly 
Review  appeared,  I  studied  how  to  justify  it  by 
informing  The  Triumph  of  the  Philistines  with  the 
severe  ethical  purpose  I  have  already  mentioned. 

Having  thus  determined  to  vindicate  those  who 
find  a  didactic  purpose  in  my  plays,  I  cast  about  me 
for  the  most  suitable  moral  to  illustrate.  Looking 
round  upon  my  countrymen,  upon  their  smug  and 
banal  ideals,  their  smug  and  banal  ways  of  living, 
their  smug  and  banal  forms  of  religion,  their  smug 
and  banal  terror  and  ignorance  of  art,  their  smug  and 
banal  haste  to  make  the  best  of  both  worlds,  I 
concluded  that  the  most  necessary  moral  to  drive 
home  to  Englishmen  to-day  is  the  wholesome  one 
contained  in  a  verse  of  Ecclesiastes,  "Be  not 
righteous  overmuch :  why  shouldest  thou  destroy 
thyself?"  Considering  the  source  of  this  precept, 
its  authority  will  hardly  be  questioned  by  the  mass 


PREFACE  xi 

of  my   countrymen.      The    necessity   for    its    rigid 
enforcement  will  be  equally  apparent,  I  hope. 

In  my  strenuous  endeavour  to  point  a  moral  I 
fear  I  did  not  take  care  to  write  a  good  play.  But 
thus  it  happens  when  a  moral  purpose  is  allowed  to 
get  the  upper  hand  in  a  work  of  art.  In  any  case,  I 
hope  the  sacrifice  of  art  to  ethics  which  I  have  made 
in  the  following  pages  will  be  duly  recognised  and 
placed  to  my  credit.  And  I  trust  my  natural  kind- 
ness of  heart  will  not  be  again  called  upon  to  vindicate 
and  shelter  those  who  make  the  assertion  that  I  preach 
in  my  plays.  For  Mr.  George  Alexander,  who  pro- 
duced The  Triumph  of  the  Philistines  with  great 
beauty  and  taste  and  consideration  for  the  author, 
tells  me  that  he  lost  a  hundred  and  thirty  pounds  on 
the  run.  Alas !  for  our  gallant  effort  to  teach  the 
English  people  this  excellent  moral,  "  Be  not  righteous 
overmuch:  why  shouldest  thou  destroy  thyself?" 

H.  A.  J. 

30th  December  1898. 


M.  ATTGUSTIN  FILON,  writing  in  the  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes  of 
the  character  of  Sally  Lebrune,  says  : 

"  The  study  is  a  brilliant  one,  and  at  moments  really  pro- 
found. It  is  the  first  time,  if  I  mistake  not,  that  an  English 
dramatist,  in  introducing  a  Frenchwoman  into  his  work,  has 
turned  out  anything  more  than  a  collection  of  mere  external 
peculiarities,  tricks  of  facial  expression,  and  mistakes  in  pro- 
nunciation and  in  language,  and  that  he  has  penetrated  into  the 
very  soul,  or  at  least  into  the  ttat  cfdtne,  of  another  nation, 
differentiating  it  from  his  own." 


Produced  by  Mr.  George  Alexander  at  the 
St.  James's  Theatre,  nth  May  1895. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED 

SIR  VALENTINE  FELLOWBS. 

WILLIE  HESSELWOOD. 

MR.  JORGAN  fof  J  organ  and  Pote,  wholesale  boot 

MR.  POTE     \    manufacturers,  Market  Pewbury.  J 

MR.  BLAGG. 

MR.  MODLIN. 

MR.  SKEWETT. 

MR.  WAPES. 

MR.  CORBY. 

THOMAS  BLAGG. 

WHEELER. 

Footmen. 

LADY  BEAU  BOYS. 
ALMA  SULENY. 
Miss  ANGELA  SOAR. 
SALLY  LEBRUNE. 


The  Scene  is  laid  in  the  Hall  at  "The  Studios,"  near  the  towa 
of  Market  Pewbury,  in  the  present  time. 

Four  months  pass  between  Acts  I.  and  II. ,  and  two  days  pau 
between  Acts  //.  and  III. 


Thejoifaiving  is  a  copy  of  the  original  play-bill  of 
"  The  Triumph  of  the  Philistines, ," 

ST.  JAMES'S  THEATRE.| 


Sole  Lessee  and  Manager — MR.   GEORGE  ALEXANDER, 


To-night,  Saturday,  nth  May  1895,  an(^ 
evening  at  8.30, 

THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES, 

and  how  Mr.  J organ  preserved  the  morals 

of  Market  Pewbury  under  very  trying 

circumstances 

AN  ORIGINAL  COMEDY,  IN  THREE  ACTS, 
BY  HENRY  ARTHUR  JONES 


SIR  VALENTINE  FELLOWES      .        .     Mr.  George  Alexander. 
WILLIE  HESSELWOOD       .        .        .     Mr.  H.  V.  Esmond. 

( of  T  organ  and  Pote,  whole-  ^ 
MR.  JORGAN  I  Je  ^  manufa;  [Mr.  Herbert  Waring. 

MR.  POTE     \Market  Pewbtlry  jMr.  E.  M.  Robson. 

MR.  BLAGG Mr.  Ernest  Hendrie. 

MR.   MODLIN  ,  .         ,  Mr.  Arthur  Royston. 

MR.  SKEWETT  .  .        .  Mr.  James  Welch. 

MR.  WAPES      ....  Mr.  H.  H.  Vincent 

MR.   CORBY Mr.  Duncan  Tovey. 

THOMAS  BLAGG         ....  Master  Frank  Saker. 

WHEELER          ....  Mr.  Mark  Paton. 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

LADY  BEAUBOYS       ....  Lady  Monckton. 

ALMA  SULENY Miss  Elliott  Page. 

Miss  ANGELA  SOAR         .        .        .  Miss  Blanche  Wilmot. 

SALLY  LEBRUNE       ....  Miss  Juliette  Nesville. 


The  scene  is  laid  in  the  Hall  at  "  The  Studios,"  near  the  town 
of  Market  Pewbury,  in  the  present  time. 


Four  months  pass  between  Acts  I.  and  //.,  and  two  days  pass 
between  Acts  II.  and  III. 


Matinee  Saturday  next  and  every  Saturday  at  3.     Doors 
open  at  2.30.     Carriages  at  4,45. 


ACT  I 

SCENE — THE  HALL  OF  THE  STUDIOS  NEAR  MARKET 
PEWBURY,  A  LARGE  IRREGULAR  APARTMENT  CON- 
VERTED FROM  AN  OLD  ENGLISH  MANOR-HOUSE. 

At  the  back  is  a  large  wide  old  oak  staircase  leading  up  ACT  I 
to  gallery \  left.  A  handsome  oak  railing  in  front  of 
gallery.  The  old  ceiling  with  rafters.  A  door  at 
the  back  of  the  gallery.  Downstairs,  a  door  right 
leading  to  the  living  apartments.  Downstairs,  left, 
a  large  old-fashioned  fireplace  with  looking-glass  above 
it.  A  doorway,  left,  leading  to  a  little  outer  hall. 
A  small  window  by  the  side  of  the  door.  The  whole 
scene  is  most  artistically  decorated  and  furnished,  and 
gives  evidence  in  all  its  details  of  the  greatest  taste 
and  care.  An  easel,  holding  a  large  picture  with  its 
back  to  the  audience,  stands  down  stage,  right.  The 
picture  is  covered  with  a  hoUand  covering  which  is 
removed  by  putting  a  string.  A  very  low,  long, 
easy  rocking-chair  is  down  stage,  left.  Old  armour, 
swords,  shields,  etc.,  hanging  on  the  staircase  and 
walls. 

»  B 


2  THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  i    Enter  LADY  BEAUBOYS,  left,  shown  in  by  WHEELER. 

LADY  B.  (a  bright,  energetic,  aristocratic  lady  of 
about  fifty-five}.  Mrs.  Suleny? 

WHEELER.     Yes,  my  lady. 

LADY  B.  Will  you  tell  her  that  Lady  Beauboys 
has  brought  Sir  Valentine  Fellowes  to  see  her  ? 

(Exit  WHEELER,  right.) 

LADY  B.  (goes  to  door,  left;  calls  out).  Val !  Val ! 
You  mustn't  do  that  in  England !  Val,  you'll  shock 
everybody!  Dk!  Dk!  Dk! 

Enter,  right,  ALMA  SULENY,  a  very  young  widow 
in  widow's  head-dress. 

LADY  B.  (cordially).  My  dear !  (Kisses  her}  I've 
brought  Sir  Valentine  to  talk  over  matters  with 
you  before  Mr.  Jorgan  and  the  town  council  arrive. 

But (goes  back  to  door,  left;  calls)  Val!  (Comes 

back  to  ALMA.)  You  know,  dear,  he  never  expected  to 
come  into  the  Pewbury  estates,  and  he  hasn't  lived  in 
England  since  he  left  Oxford  ten  years  ago.  And 
after  having  spent  so  much  of  his  life  abroad,  you 
can't  imagine  what  a  difficulty  I  have  in  persuading 
him  that  what  it  is  quite  proper  to  do  in  France  and 
Italy,  it  is  quite  improper  to  do  in  England.  And 
he  has  no  idea  how  particular  we  are  in  Market 
Pewbury ! 

ALMA  (bitterly).  We  are  very  particular  in  Market 
Pewbury. 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES  3 

LADY  B.  (goes  to  picture,  draws  the  cord,  pulls  aside  ACT  I 
the  Holland  covering  which  hangs  over  if).     Is  this  the 
picture  that  Mr.  Jorgan  is  making  all  the  fuss  about  ? 
The  Bacchante  ? 

ALMA.  Yes,  that's  the  picture.  Tell  me  candidly, 
do  you  see  anything  improper  in  it  ? 

LADY  B.  (after  having  looked  at  the  picture  critically). 
Not  in  the  least.  But  I'm  quite  sure  Mr.  Jorgan  will. 

ALMA.  It  seems  so  hard  after  all  my  father's  and 
my  husband's  lifelong  exertions  in  the  cause  of 
English  art,  that  just  as  we  discover  a  young  artist 
with  a  touch  of  real  genius, — it  seems  so  hafrd  that 
Market  Pewbury  should  pounce  down  upon  his  picture 
as  improper. 

LADY  B.  How  did  Market  Pewbury  come  to  know 
anything  about  it  ? 

ALMA.  When  the  butcher  boy  brought  the  meat 
the  other  morning  he  caught  sight  of  it  in  Willie's 
studio,  and  described  it  to  his  companions.  Mr.  Blagg 
the  butcher  heard  of  it — I'm  ashamed  to  say  there's 
a  large  bill  owing 

LADY  B.  (sympathisingly).  My  poor  dear  !  That 
naturally  prejudices  Mr.  Blagg's  art  criticism. 

ALMA.  Yes.  He  d^^Hned  to  serve  us  with  any 
more  meat,  brought  the  matter  before  the  town 
council,  and  now  they  have  decided  to  call  a  public 
meeting  and  demand  the  abolition  or  removal  of  the 
studios.  What  can  I  do  ? 

LA:>Y  B.    Don't  you  think  you  had  better  give  it  up? 


4  THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES  i 

ACT  i  ALMA.  But  my  father?  It  seems  like  deserting 
him.  I  promised  him  I  would  continue  his  work. 

LADY  B.  Your  late  dear  father  and  your  late  dear 
husband  were  two  seraphs  whom  an  ironic  Providence 
allowed  to  flutter  in  a  cold  commercial  world.  But 
it's  useless  to  affirm  seraphic  traditions  in  the  face  of 
unpaid  butcher's  bills.  You've  kept  on  the  studios — 
how  long  ? 

ALMA.     Nearly  two  years. 

LADY  B.  Aren't  you  nearly  tired  of  playing  the 
seraph?  Because,  my  dear,  you  aren't  a  seraph  by 
nature,  you  know.  Once  take  you  out  of  the  seraph 
business,  and  you'll  make  a  sensible  woman.  Better 
give  it  up ! 

ALMA.  To  Mr.  Jorgan?  Never!  I'll  stay  here 
and  carry  out  my  father's  wishes  while  there's  a  crust 
to  eat,  and  a  single  student  left  to  copy  a  plaster  cast 
of  the  antique ! 

LADY  B.  (shrugs  her  shoulders].  Well,  I'm  sure 
Sir  Valentine  will  give  you  all  the  help  in  his  power. 
By  the  way,  what  does  Mrs.  Mowbray  say  to  all  this  ? 
,  A  ALMA.  Mrs.  Mowbray  left  me  this  morning. 

LADY  B.  And  you're  here  without  a  companion  ! 
How  foolish !  Don't  you  know  what  Market  Pewbury 
will  say? 

ALMA.  What  does  it  matter  what  Market  Pewbury 
says?  Besides,  if  I  wished  to  do  anything  wrong, 
what  possible  hindrance  is  there  in  the  presence  of  a 
middle-aged  companion  whom  I  pay  ? 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES  5 

'  LADY  B.  My  dear,  it's  a  very  venerable  and  useful  ACT  I 
superstition  that  one  woman  is  perfectly  safe  if  another 
woman  is  pretending  to  look  after  her.  And  I  won't 
have  such  a  convenient  fiction  disturbed.  You'll 
please  tell  your  maid  to  pack  up  your  things,  and 
you'll  come  back  with  me  in  my  carriage.  Yes,  I 
insist.  (Goes  up  to  picture  again.)  Didn't  I  catch 
sight  of  the  original  of  that  picture  outside  ? 

ALMA.     Yes,  she's  staying  with  us  at  the  studios. 

LADY  B.     Who  is  she  ? 

ALMA.    Mademoiselle  Lebrune — Sally  Lebrune  she 
calls  herself. 

LADY  B.  (anxiously).     Sir  Valentine  went  to  look 

round  the  grounds,  and  I  fancy (goes  anxiously  to 

door,  left,  and  looks  off.  A  loud  burst  of  laughter  from 
SLR  VALENTINE  and  SALLY  LEBRUNE  at  door,  left. 
LADY  BEAU  BOYS  calls  out).  Val !  Valentine  1 

Enter  SIR  VALENTINE  FELLOWES,  about  thirty,  a 
thorough  Engi;shman  by  birth  and  breeding,  with 
slight  traces  of  Continental  manners  and  dress. 
He  comes  in,  laughing. 

\      LADY  B.     Val,  you  mustn't  do  that  m  England. 
SIR  V.  (stops  suddenly).   Mustn't  I  laugh  in  England? 

(Bows  to  ALMA,  who  bows  in  return.) 
LADY  B.     You  were  talking  to  somebody  outside. 
SIR  V.     Mayn't  I  talk  to  a  pretty  girl  in  Eiv/and? 
LADY  B.     Not  when  anybody's  looking.     Let  me 


6  THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES  , 

> 
ACT  i  present  you.     (Introduces)  Sir  Valentine  Fellowes— 

Mrs.  Suleny. 

SIR  V.  I'm  delighted  to  meet  you.  Will  you 
permit  me?  (Takes  out  memorandum-book)  I'm 
making  a  list  of  things  I  mustn't  do  in  England.  I've 
already  filled  ten- pages.  (He  is  writing.) 

ALMA.     This  is  your  first  visit  to  Market  Pewbury? 

SIR  V.  Yes.  There  was  a  quarrel  between  my 
father  and  his  brother.  My  people  lived  abroad,  so, 
strange  to  say,  I'd  never  seen  Market  Pewbury  or  the 
estates  till  I  came  to  take  possession  the  other  day. 

ALMA.  Don't  you  find  Market  Pewbury  very 
peculiar  ? 

SIR  V.  Peculiar  ?  My  late  uncle  seems  to  have 
welcomed  into  his  bonnet  every  possible  bee  that 
buzzed  round  his  benighted  old  head,  and  the  result 
is  that  he  has  made  Market  Pewbury  a  complete 
hornets'  nest  for  his  successor.  I've  already  been 
pestered  for  subscriptions  to  seventeen  anti-associa- 
tions— anti-vaccination,  anti-vivisection,  anti-national- 
defence,  anti-gambling,  anti-drinking,  anti-eating,  anti- 
smoking,  anti-this,  anti-that,  anti-the-other,  anti-enjoy- 
yourself -or  -let-anybody-  else  -  enjoy-  himself  -  in  -  any- 
t  possible-way.  Now  I'm  not  an  anti-anythingite. 

ALMA.  And  all  the  Market  Pewbury  people  are 
anti-everythingites. 

SIR  V.  Let  every  man  do  exactly  what  he  pleases, 
I  say,  because,  when  he's  doing  what  he  pleases  he's 
doing  what  Nature  tells  him  to  do,  and  that  must  be 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES  7 

right.     Why  should  I  set  myself  up  to  be  wiser  than  ACT  i 
Nature  ? 

LADY  B.  My  dear  Val,  take  the  advice  of  a  very 
wise  old  woman,  and  don't  stroke  Market  Pewbury's 
wool  the  wrong  way. 

SIR  V.  I  don't  want  to  stroke  Market  Pewbury's 
wool  at  all,  especially  that  fellow  Jorgan's.  What  I 
object  to  is  Market  Pewbury  stroking  my  wool.  What 
d'ye  think?  Two  confounded  old  women — I  beg 
pardon — two  extraordinary  creatures  who  had  the  best 
possible  personal  reasons  for  wishing  all  the  other 
women  in  the  world  to  conceal  their  charms,  called  on 
me  yesterday  and  asked  me  to  sign  a  paper  pledging 
myself  to  persuade  all  the  ladies  of  my  acquaintance 
not  to  wear  evening  dress. 

LADY  B.     What  did  you  say,  Val  ? 

SIR  V.  I  said  that  I  considered  ladies'  evening 
dress  was  a  very  dangerous  thing  for  a  man  of  my 
temperament  to  meddle  with.  And  when  I  declined 
to  commit  myself  they  said  they  must  report  me  to 
Miss  Angela  Soar.  Who  is  Miss  Angela  Soar  ? 

LADY  B.  She's  the  president  of  the  ladies'  anti- 
evening-dress  association.  She  lives  in  Market  Pew- 
bury. 

SIR  V.     In  one  of  my  houses  ? 

LADY  B.     Yes,  she's  a  tenant  of  yours. 

SIR  V.  (with  a  little  chuckle).  That's  a  comfort 
As  Miss  Soar  raises  the  height  of  ladies'  evening 
bodices,  so  up  goes  Miss  Soar's  rent. 


8  THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  i  LADY  B.  Oh  no,  it  won't !  Your  uncle  gave  her 
a  very  long  lease  of  her  house  at  a  very  nominal  sum. 

SIR  V.  (blankly).     What  did  he  do  that  for  ? 

LADY  B.  He  said  she  was  a  pure-minded  woman 
with  spasms. 

SIR  V.  (depressed}.  It  seems  to  me  that  all  my 
tenants  are  pure-minded  people  with  spasms. 

LADY  B.  Yes,  I  think  that  would  be  a  very  good 
description  of  Market  Pewbury.  And  as  you've  got 
to  live  there  for  the  best  part  of  your  life 

SIR  V.  (stops  her).  Oh  no,  my  dear  aunt.  There's 
a  Continental  "  Bradshaw  "  lying  on  my  table  at  the 
Court. 

LADY  B.  But  your  duties  lie  here.  (He  shakes  his 
head.)  Yes,  Val,  we  mustn't  forget  that  property  has 
duties  even  if  other  people  forget  that  it  has  rights. 
Take  an  example  by  me.  I  live  at  Market  Pewbury 
six  months  of  the  year,  in  London  three  or  four,  and 
abroad  two  or  three.  And  I  fall  in  with  whatever 
manners,  morals,  habits,  and  religion  belong  to  the 
place  I'm  staying  at.  I'm  the  most  terrible  old 
hypocrite  that  ever  lived !  But  you  can't  imagine 
what  an  easy  time  I  have,  and  how  much  I'm  loved 
and  respected  by  everybody.  Now,  when  I'm  at 
Market  Pewbury  I  think,  "  Here  are  all  these  excellent 
shopkeeping  people  content  to  lead  what  appears  to 
me  a  very  dull  and  stupid  life  all  the  week,  and  a 
much  duller  and  more  stupid  life  on  Sunday,  and 
these  excellent  people  do  this  in  order  that  I  may  be 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES  9 

supplied  with  groceries,  meat,  boots  and  shoes,  dress,  ACT  I 
jewellery,  and  all  the  necessaries  and  luxuries  of  life. 
And  if  these  excellent  people  enjoy  being  dull  and 
stupid,  why  should  I  wantonly  destroy  their  one 
pleasure  in  life?  Why  should  I  shock  them  out 
of  their  wits  by  hinting  that  there  are  other  joys 
than  reading  the  Sunday  at  Home  and  playing  the 
harmonium  ?  No !  No  !  I  agree  with  them  all  I 
subscribe  to  all  their  chapels — sparingly.  I  look  in 
at  all  their  mothers'  meetings — for  a  minute  dr  two. 
I  deal  at  every  shop.  When  I'm  swindled  moderately, 
I  wink  at  it.  When  I'm  swindled  /^moderately,  I 
banter  the  excellent  shopkeeper  till  he's  ashamed  of 
himself.  And,  above  all,  I  avoid  committing  myself 
on  any  subject  And  the  upshot  is,  that  though,  as 
you  say,  Market  Pewbury  is  a  hornets'  neat,  /never 
get  stung ! 

Enter  WHEELER,  right. 

WHEELER.  Mr.  Jorgan  and  the  town  council  have 
arrived,  ma'am. 

ALMA.     Show  them  in  here. 

LADY  B.  No.  Let  me  go  and  soothe  Mr.  Jorgan's 
savage  breast  before  he  looks  at  the  Bacchante. 
Perhaps  I  might  show  him  round  the  studios,  and — 
(suddenly]  there's  nothing  of  a  shocking  nature  in  the 
studios,  I  hope  ? 

ALMA  (considering}.  No,  I  think  not.  There's  a 
Venus  of  Milo. 


io          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

Acr  i       LADY  B.     Away  with  her,  the  baggage  !     Anything 
else? 

ALMA.     And  a  cast  of  Hercules. 

LADY  B.     Cover  him  up,  the  rascal ! 

ALMA  (to  WHEELER).  Go  to  the  studios  and  tell 
Mr.  Hesselwood  that  Mr.  Jorgan  is  going  to  look 
round,  and  ask  him  to  see  that  nothing  is  lying  about 
that  could  possibly  shock  Mr.  Jorgan. 

(Exit  WHEELER.) 

SIR  V.  (has  strolled  up  to  the  picture).  By  Jove ! 
The  little  hussy  who  winked  at  me ! 

LADY  B.     Winked  at  you  !     Who  did  ? 

SIR  V.  (jointing  to  the  picture).  She  did !  The 
little  hussy  outside. 

LADY  B.  (alarmed,  to  ALMA).  My  dear,  who  is  this 
young  person  ? 

ALMA.     She  is — a  sort  of  artist's  model. 

LADY  B.  And  you  have  her  staying  in  the  studios? 
Is  that  wise  ? 

ALMA.  Willie  said  it  would  be  such  an  advantage 
to  him  to  paint  from  the  life,  and  I  thought  it  would 
be  better  for  her  to  stay  here  than  to  go  into  lodgings, 
as  they  are  so  very  particular  in  Market  Pewbury. 

LADY  B.     But  if  she  winks  at  people 

ALMA.  I've  not  seen  her  winking  at  anybody. 
And  if  she  does,  it's  better  for  her  to  wink  at  some- 
body here  than  to  wink  at  somebody  in  Market 
Pewbury.  (To  SIR  VALENTINE.)  I'm  afraid  you 
found  her  very  forward  ? 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          II 

SIR  V.  No.  No.  When  modesty  is  quite  out  of  ACT  i 
the  question  with  a  woman,  I  think  a  becoming  for- 
wardness is  the  next  best  attraction.  (A  laugh  from 
SALLY  outside?)  I  say,  aunt,  I've  quite  made  up  my 
mind  as  to  the  propriety  of  this  picture.  So  I  needn't 
stop  to  discuss  the  matter  with  Mr.  Jorgan. 

(Is  going  off  at  door>  left.     LADY  BEAUBOYS 

intercepts  him.) 

LADY  B.  Once  for  all,  will  you  learn  the  responsi 
bility  of  your  position?  You  must  not  do  these 
things  in  England.  (Bringing  him  back.)  What  made 
this  young  person  wink  at  you  ? 

SIR  V.  (slightly  glancing  at  himself).     Well,  there 
may  have  been  some  good  reason. 
LADY  B.     Did  you  encourage  her? 
SIR  V.     I  didn't  encourage  her  before  she  winked, 
but  I  did  encourage  her  a  little  after. 

(LADY  BEAUBOYS  shakes  her  head  at  him  very 
sternly  as  at  a  bad  child) 

Re-enter  WHEELER,  right. 

WHEELER.  Mr.  Hesselwood  have  removed  every- 
thing of  a  shocking  nature  from  the  studios,  ma'am. 

LADY  B.  Then  I'll  begin  Mr.  Jorgan's  art-educa- 
tion. (To  SIR  VALENTINE.)  You're  to  stay  here,  Val, 
and  promise  to  help  Mrs.  Suleny  out  of  her  troubles. 
(Goes  to  the  picture.)  Hum  !  I'm  afraid  Mr.  Jorgan 
will  draw  the  line  at  Bacchantes. 

(Exit,  left)  followed  by  WHEELER.) 


12         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  i       SIR  V.  (to  ALMA).     Now,  Mrs.  Suleny,  tell  me  all 
about  these  troubles. 

ALMA.  You've  heard  of  my  father's  scheme  for  the 
education  of  young  artists.  It  was  his  idea  that  a 
man  who  is  born  to  be  an  artist  is  fit  for  nothing 
else. 

SIR  V.  Quite  true.  And  generally  he's  not  fit 
even  for  that. 

ALMA.  So  he  let  it  be  known  amongst  all  the 
schoolmasters  in  the  country  that  if  they  had  any 
good-for-nothing  boys  who  wouldn't  or  couldn't  do 
iifiir  lessons,  but  who  had  a  decided  talent  for  drawing, 
that  he  would  examine  their  work,  and  if  it  showed 
any  promise  he'd  give  them  a  sound  art-training  here. 

SIR  V.  Your  father  must  have  been  a  perfect 
godsend  to  the  schoolmasters.  How  many  boys  did 
you  get  ? 

ALMA.  We've  had  about  two  thousand  through 
our  hands. 

SIR  V.     And  what  has  been  the  result  ? 

ALMA.  Some  of  them  are  doing  well  as  drawing- 
masters,  and  painters  in  a  small  way.  And  we've 
discovered  one  real  genius. 

SIR  V.     The  painter  of  this  picture  ? 

(Pointing  to  picture?) 

ALMA.  Yes.  My  father  always  prophesied  he 
would  astonish  the  world  one  day.  Don't  you  think 
he  will? 

SIR  V.  (goes  to  picture).      I  think  he'll  astonish 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          13 

Market  Pewbury !      What  induced    your  father   to  ACT  t 
choose  this  place  for  his  studios  ? 

ALMA.     The  air  is  so  bracing 

SIR  V.  It  is.  (  With  a  little  shiver^  Just  a  little 
too  bracing  for  Bacchantes  to  frolic  about  in,  eh  ? 

ALMA.     And  your  late  uncle  gave  him  a  long  lease      j 
of  this  ramshackle  old  place  at  a  very  low  rent ;  so 
he  rebuilt  it,  added  all  the  studios,  and  made  the  boys 
thoroughly  comfortable. 

SIR  V.  (looking  round).  Yes,  I  should  think  the 
boys  have  had  a  good  time  of  it.  Did  your  father 
find  it  pay  ? 

ALMA.  He  never  thought  of  money.  He  thought 
only  of  art.  Don't  you  think  his  scheme  was  a  good 
one? 

SIR  V.  Excellent !  And  it  seems  to  have  one 
great  advantage  over  the  general  run  of  philanthropic 
schemes. 

ALMA.     What  is  that? 

SIR  V.  Your  father  only  lost  his  own  money, 
Most  philanthropists  lose  other  people's. 

ALMA  (hurt).  I  can't  get  any  one  to  believe  in  my 
father's  work. 

SIR  V.  My  dear  Mrs.  Suleny,  I  know  very  little 
about  art,  but  so  far  as  I  can  gather,  it's  something 
like  religion,  a  vague,  indefinite  kind  of  thing,  very 
much  talked  about,  very  little  understood,  and  very 
rarely  practised.  How  has  your  father's  scheme 
helped  English  ait  ? 


14         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  i       ALMA.     We've  discovered  a  genius. 

SIR  V.  Don't  you  think  he  would  have  discovered 
himself?  It  seems  to  me  that  the  net  result  of  your 
father's  well-meant  exertions  is  some  few  hundreds  of 
good-for-nothing  boys  turned  into  indifferent  painters 
and  drawing-masters,  and  one  genuine  artist  painting 
Bacchantes  for  Mr.  Jorgan  and  Market  Pewbury  to 
cavil  at. 

ALMA  (discouraged).  Oh,  very  well.  Then  I'd 
better  give  it  up  and  let  Mr.  Jorgan  come  in  and  take 
everything. 

SIR  V.     What  has  Mr.  Jorgan  to  do  with  it  ? 

ALMA.  I  had  to  borrow  money  on  the  lease  at  the 
bank,  and  it  seems  Mr.  Jorgan  was  the  person  who 
advanced  it.  And  as  I  couldn't  pay  it  back  in  time, 
I  was  obliged  to  make  over  the  remainder  of  the  lease 
to  him.  And  this  will  be  the  end  of  my  father's  work ! 
(Breaking  down>  trying  to  stop  her  tears.) 

SIR  V.     Mrs.  Suleny,  don't  give  way. 

ALMA.  I  won't.  I'm  ashamed  for  you  to  see  me 
crying. 

SIR  V.  I  assure  you  I  have  the  greatest  respect 
for  your  father's  work,  and  I  shall  consider  it  my  duty 
to  carry  out  his  wishes  in  the  best  possible  way. 

ALMA.  Do  you  really  mean  that?  You're  only 
saying  it  because  you  are  kind !  You're  not  doing  it 
for  the  sake  of  art. 

SIR  V.     Oh  yes,  I  am ! 

ALMA.     Are  you  sure  ? 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          15 

.      SIR  V.     Well,  chiefly  for  the  sake  of  art,  and  a  ACT  I 
little — a  very  little,  for  the  sake  of  a  lady  in  distress. 

ALMA.  You  won't  think  I've  been  crying  and 
making  a  scene  only  to  get  your  sympathy  ? 

SIR  V.  I'm  sure  this  (looking  at  her  tears)  is  Nature 
— not  art.  Now,  about  this  Jorgan 

ALMA.  You  don't  know  how  he  has  persecuted  my 
father  and  me  since  we've  been  at  Market  Pewbury. 

SIR  V.     Why  do  you  let  him  come  here  to-day  ? 

ALMA.  The  town  council  sent  me  a  notice  that 
they  wished  to  inspect  the  picture.  How  could  I 
refuse  without  giving  them  a  handle  for  slandering  me 
all  over  the  country  ?  I  went  to  Lady  Beauboys  and 
asked  her  what  I  should  do.  She  advised  me  to  send 
them  a  very  polite  invitation  to  inspect  it  this  after- 
noon, and  she  promised,  like  the  dear  kind  soul  that 
she  is,  to  bring  you  over  to  meet  them,  so  that  you 
might  throw  all  your  influence  on  my  side.  And  you 
were  good  enough  to  come. 

SIR  V.     For  the  sake  of  art 

Re-enter  LADY  BEAUBOYS,  right. 

We  won't  talk  any  more  about  art.  You  hate  this 
fellow  Jorgan  and  all  his  crew !  So  do  I.  Very  well. 
I'm  fond  of  a  fight.  We'll  fight  him,  you  and  I,  and 
we'll  see  who's  master  in  Market  Pewbury,  Jorgan  or  I. 
LADY  B.  He'll  beat  you,  Val.  You're  fighting  the 
strongest  force  in  English  life — that  black,  bitter, 


16         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  i  stubborn  Puritanism  that  you'll  never  change,  my  dear 
boy,  till  you've  changed  the  climate  of  the  country 
and  the  very  bone  and  marrow  of  our  English  race. 
Jorgan  will  beat  you,  Val. 
SIR  V.     We  shall  see. 

LADY  B.  (to  ALMA).     My  dear,  Mr.  Jorgan  wants 
to  inspect  the  boys'  dormitories. 
ALMA.     What  for  ? 

LADY  B.  I  don't  know,  my  dear.  He  was  just 
fishing  out  a  Diana  and  her  Nymphs  in  the  studio, 
and  I  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  keeping  him  from 
inspecting  them.  I'm  sure  it  will  do  him  more  good 
to  inspect  a  nice  plain  whitewashed  wall,  and  he'll 
understand  it  so  much  better.  Come,  my  dear, 
humour  him. 

ALMA.  What  will  be  the  next  indignity  that  I 
shall  have  to  endure  from  Mr.  Jorgan?  The  boys' 
dormitories ! 

(Exit  ALMA,  right.  SIR  VAL  is  strolling  up 
to  the  picture.  LADY  BEAUBOYS  pulls 
the  string  and  draws  the  cover  over  it. 
Exit  LADY  BEAUBOYS  after  ALMA,  right. 
SIR  VALENTINE  strolls  up  to  the  picture, 
lifts  up  the  holland  cover  with  his  hand 
without  pulling  the  string.  SALLY 
LEBRUNE  creeps  on  very  slowly,  left. 
She  is  an  impish,  black- eyed  French 
girl,  dark  complexion,  red  lips,  engaging 
impudent  manners,  odd  little  sly  French 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          17 

tricks  of  gesture  and  grimace,  large  gold  ACT  I 
ear-rings,  and  bright  tawdry  coquettish 
dress.      She  creeps  very  stealthily   and 
slowly  on  tiptoe  behind  SIR  VALENTINE, 
comes  up  behind  him,  bursts  into  a  loua 
fit  of  laughter  behind  his  ears.      He 
starts  and  looks  at  her.) 
SALLY.     That  is  me.     How  you  like  me  ? 

(Pointing  to  picture.) 

SIR  V.   (approaching  her).     You  monkey !     How 
dare  you ! 

SALLY.  I  dare  do  anything  in  this  blessed  mortal 
world.  I  dare  make  ugly  faces  at  you.  (Makes  an 
ugly  face  at  him.)  I  dare  make  pretty  faces  at  you 
(Makes  a  pretty  face  at  him.)  I  dare  do  that  at  you  ! 
(Suddenly  putting  her  thumb  to  her  nose  for  a  moment.) 
I  dare  do  that  to  all  this  mortal  blessed  world. 

(Putting  her  thumb  to  her  nose  and  swinging 

round  on  her  heel.) 

SIR  V.  You  daren't  do  that  to  Market  Pew- 
bury  ! 

SALLY  (snaps  her  fingers).     That  at  Market  Pew- 
bury  !     (Puts  cut  her  tongue?)     That  at  Market  Pew- 
bury  !     What  you  think  of  Market  Pewbury  ? 
SIR  V.     What  do  you  ? 
SALLY.     I  think  it  is  full  of  dam  nonsense ! 
SIR  V.     Hush  !     You  mustn't  say  that ! 
SALLY.     When  something  is  full  of  dam  nonsense 
will  I  not  say  it  is  full  of  dam  nonsense  ? 
c 


i8          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  I       SIR  V.     Not  in  England. 

SALLY.     What  will  I  say  then  ? 

SIR  V.     You  might  say  it's  full  of  D.  N. 

SALLY.  D.  N.  ?  Ver'  well.  I  will  say  to  Market 
Pewbury,  "  Market  Pewbury,  you  are  full  of  D.  N.  till 
you  bust  up  yourself." 

SIR  V.  What  do  you  think  Market  Pewbury  will 
say  to  you,  and — this?  (Pointing  to  pictured) 

SALLY.     What  you  think  of  that  picture  ? 

SIR  V.     Exquisite — as  exquisite  as  you  are. 

SALLY.  I  will  tell  you  why.  The  silly  boy  who 
painted  that,  he  is  just  two  millions  of  foots  deep  in 
love  with  me.  He  is  funny,  my  poor  little  fool.  I 
twist  him  round,  round,  round  {gesture  with  her 
fingers\  and  when  I  wink  at  him  like  that  (winking 
"very  wickedly  at  SIR  VALENTINE),  it  send  him  cracked 
out  at  his  senses. 

SIR  V.  (looks  at  her).  Yes,  I  should  think  it 
would.  (Suddenly  struck  with  an  idea.)  I  say — would 
you 

SALLY.  Would  I — yes,  I  think  I  would.  What 
would  I  ? 

SIR  V.  Mr.  Jorgan  is  coming  to  look  at  your 
picture.  While  he  is  looking  at  it,  do  you  think  you 
could  manage  to  wink  at  him  like  that  ? 

SALLY.     Like  that  ?  (  Winks  at  him.) 

SiRV.     Yes. 

SALLY.     How  much  will  you  give  me  ? 

SIR  V.  (taken  aback).     Money  ? 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          19 

SALLY.     Yes,  I  love  money  so  much,  and  I  never  ACT  i 
have  not  a  blessed  mortal  sixpence.     You  are  ver' 
rich,  yes  ? 

SIR  V.     Hum 

SALLY.  Oh,  I  could  love  to  have  millions  and 
millions  and  millions  of  pounds.  I  could  spend  it 
all.  Ah,  give  me  some  money !  And  I  will  give 
Mr.  Jorgan  some  nice  winks.  Ah !  You  shall  see ! 
He  will  be  funny  to  look  at  when  I  wink  at  him. 
Give  me  some  money  ! 

SIR  V.  (taking  out  purse).  Well,  I  don't  mind  a 
five-pound  note  to  see  the  performance. 

SALLY.  Oh,  do  give  me  ten  !  Yes  !  (Snatching 
the  purse  from  his  hand,  running  away  with  it.)  I 

will  have  ten 

SIR  V.  (running  after  her}.  Give  me  my  purse, 
you  little  devil ! 

(Catches  her  from  the  back  round  the  shoulder -s, 
struggling  with  her  to  get  the  purse. 
JORGAN  has  entered  quickly  behind  SIR 
VALENTINE  at  the  door,  right,  which 
has  been  left  open  by  LADY  BEAUBOYS 
and  ALMA.  He  is  followed  by  MR. 
SKEWETT.  JORGAN  is  a  middle-aged 
man  of  the  better  tradesman  class  in  a 
provincial  town  ;  thick-set  figure  ;  drab 
complexion  with  black" speckles  all  oi>er 
it ;  stubby,  reddish-brown  hair,  and  a 
fine  of  stubby,  reddish  whiskers  undef 


20         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  I  chin  ;  a  coarsely  humorous  expression  of 

face,  loud,  vulgar  manners,  and  loud, 
•vulgar  laugh.  SKEWETT  is  a  little 
sniffing,  rasping  man  with  small,  spare, 
feeble,  bent  figure  ;  mean,  irregular  fea- 
tures, badly  arranged  round  a  formidable, 
bent,  broken  red  beak  of  a  nose ;  thin, 
straggling  gray  hair,  and  long,  straggling, 
gray,  mutton-chop  whiskers ;  constantly 
blinking  little  eyes,  and  very  assertive, 
energetic  manners  ;  a  constant  air  of 
objecting  to  everything  and  everybody  on 
principle.  The  struggle  between  SALLY 
and  SIR  VALENTINE  goes  on,  watched  by 
JORGAN  and  SKEWETT.) 

SALLY  (protesting).     No,  no,  no 

SIR  V.     Give  me  my  purse. 

SALLY.     Will  it  be  ten  pounds,  then  ? 

SIR  V.     Oh,  very  well,  say  ten  pounds,  and  be 
quick  about  it 

JOR.  (coming  a  little  forward}.     Ten  pounds,  Sir 
Valentine  !     Did  you  hear  that,  Mr.  Skewett  ? 

SKEW,   (in  a  quick,   rasping,  nervous,  quarrelsome 
tone).     Yes,  I  did,  and  it  requires  explanation. 

(With    a  ferocious   nod  and   wink   at  SIR 
VALENTINE.) 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES         21 

Enter  LADY  BEAUBOYS  and  ALMA,  followed  by  MR.  ACT  I 
WAPES,  MR.  BLAGG,  MR,  CORBY,  MR.  MODLIN, 
and  MR.  POTE. 

MR.  WAPES:  is  a  large,  flabby \  sleepy  man,  with  a 
rolling  walk,  bandy  tegs,  no  neck  to  speak  of ; 
a  body  and  head  all  in  one  piece,  shaped  like  a 
pyramid,  his  bald  head  forming  the  polished  apex^ 
and  his  large  flabby  cheeks  fitting  loosely  over  his 
shoulders  ;  a  very  weak,  wheezy,  crackling  voice. 

MR.  BLAGG  is  a  stubborn,  earnest  man;  black 
shiny  clothes ;  a  large  clean-shaven  face,  and 
coal-black  hair ;  very  solemn  manner  ;  twangy, 
ranting  utterance,  accompanied  by  one  stereotyped 
emphatic  gesture  of  a  local  preacher,  his  fists 
closed,  and  his  arms  moving  mechanically  up  and 
down,  his  body  swaying  to  and  fro  meanwhile. 

MR.  CORBY  is  a  little,  merry-eyed,  apple-faced  man, 
with  ginger  whiskers  and  bright  red  hair ;  a 
little  snub  nose  ;  good-humoured  features,  express- 
ing great  general  satisfaction  with  himself  and 
the  universe  for  no  particular  reason  ;  a  short, 
round  little  figure ;  a  disposition  to  giggle  and 
snigger  all  through  the  interview. 

MR.  MODLIN  is  a  very  long,  loosely-built  man,  with 
pale  complexion,  colourless  lips,  colourless  drab 
hair ;  vague,  irregular  features,  with  entire 
absence  of  expression  ;  keeps  his  hands  folded  one 
over  the  other  at  full  length  in  front  of  him,  and 


22          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  I  his  eyes  fixed  on  a  corner  of  the  ceiling  with  utter 

absence  of  expression. 

MR.  POTE  is  a  meek,  mangy,  smirking  little  man, 
with  the  most  offensive  amiability  of  manner,  and 
a  habit  of  affectionately  stroking  the  person  he  is 
talking  to;  weak,  watery  eyes;  hair  carefully 
pomatumed  into  a  triangle  on  the  top  of  his  fore- 
head;  walks  on  tiptoe,  bobbing  up  and  down  as 
if  he  were  afraid  of  giving  offence  by  too  great 
self-assertion  in  walking  in  the  ordinary  way. 
They  follow  LADY  BEAU  BOYS  one  at  a  time,  take 
up  different  positions  and  look  round  in  a  generally 
embarrassed  and  ill-at-ease  manner. 

LADY  B.  Now  before  we  look  at  the  picture,  I'm 
sure,  Sir  Valentine,  you  will  be  delighted  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  some  of  your  neighbours  at  Market 
Pewbury.  (Introducing^)  Mr.  Wapes.  (Bow  between 
WAPES  and  SIR  VALENTINE.)  Mr.  Modlin,  Mr. 
Corby,  Mr.  Pote,  Mr.  Blagg,  Mr.  Skewett.  (As  she 
introduces  them,  each  of  them  gives  a  bow  in  his  peculiar 
manner. ,)%  I  think  you  already  know  Mr.  Jorgan. 

JOR.  (with  a  laugh).  No,  I  don't  think  he  does. 
I  take  a  great  deal  of  knowing,  and  the  more  some 
people  know  me,  the  less  they  like  me.  (Rubbing  his 
hands  cordially?)  Ha  !  Ha !  Curious  taste  on  their 
part,  isn't  it  ? 

SIR  V.     How  curious  ? 
(LADY  BEAUBOYS  makes  signs  to  SIR  VALENTINE.) 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          23 

JOR.     Well,  Sir  Valentine,  perhaps  the  more  you  ACT  I 
know  of  me  the  less  you'll  like  me  ! 

SIR  V.  (amused}.  I  think  it  not  improbable.  But 
I  don't  intend  to  know  you  very  well. 

JOR.  (cordially).  Oh  yes,  you  will,  Sir  Valentine, 
before  you're  very  much  older.  (Glancing  round  for 
approval  at  the  others.  SKEWETT  nods  and  blinks 
mciously.'}  Now,  as  you're  the  chief  owner  of  property 
in  Market  Pewbury,  we  expect  you  to  set  us  a  pattern. 

SIR  V.     A  pattern  of  what  ? 

JOR.     A  pattern  of  moral  respectability. 

SIR  V.  Pray  don't !  Surely  property  has  burdens 
enough  without  having  to  pretend  to  be  better  than 
all  its  neighbours.  Oh  no,  Mr.  Jorgan  !  Take  it  out 
of  me  in  rates  and  taxes  ! 

JOR.  (rubbing  his  hands  cordially,  and  glancing 
round  to  his  comrades  for  approval}.  Well,  I  daresay 
you'll  find  us  equal  to  that !  But  first  of  all,  I  want 
to  ask  you  in  the  nicest  and  politest  way  possible, 
what  is  the  benevolent  institution  which  you  were 
contributing  to  when  I  came  into  the  room  ? 

(SKEWETT  pushes  forward  and  nods  and 
blinks  venomously  at  SIR  VALENTINE 
all  through  the  interview.  He  gives  a 
nod  of  approval  every  time  anything  is 
said  of  which  he  approves.} 

SIR  V.     Benevolent  institution  ? 

JOR.  You  were  about  to  subscribe  ten  pounds  to 
thix.  female.  (Turns  suddenly  round  on  SALLY.) 


24          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  i       SALLY  (shrieks}.     Female!    Ha!     What  is  female? 
He  call  me  female  ! 

JOR.  (sternly  to  SALLY).  Female !  (To  SIR  VALEN- 
TINE.) It  must  have  been  for  some  very  benevolent 
purpose  that  you  gave  your  purse  to  this  (SALLY  looks 
very  fiercely  at  him) — young  person.  (SALLY  looks 
a  little  mollified.}  She  has  it  in  her  hand  now  ! 

(Pointing    at    SIR    VALENTINE'S    purse    in 
SALLY'S  hand.     LADY  BEAUBOYS   and 
ALMA  show  surprise  and  vexation.} 
SIR  V.  (to  SALLY).     Will  you  give  me  my  purse, 
please  ? 

SALLY.     Ah,  but  you  promised 

SIR  V.     My  purse,  please  !  ( Very  sharply.} 

SALLY.  Ver'  well.  (Giving  him  the  purse.}  Ten 
pounds  if  you  please. 

(Holds  out  her  hand.     SIR  VALENTINE  takes 

the  purse.} 

SIR  V.  Thank  you.  (Opens  it,  takes  out  a  bundle 
of  notes,  takes  two  of  them,  puts  the  rest  back  in  the 
purse,  puts  his  purse  in  his  pocket,  turns  to  J ORGAN.) 
You  wish  to  know  why  I  am  giving  ten  pounds  to 
this  young  lady  ? 

JOR.  You  needn't  inform  against  yourself  unless 
you  like. 

SIR  V.  I  won't.  It  is  for  a  very  good  purpose 
which  we  will  keep  to  ourselves. 

(Gives  two  notes  to  SALLY.) 
SALLY.     Ah !     Thank  you. 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES         25 

*a 

^Slightly  winks  at  him.      Surprise,  and  great  ACT  I 
consternation  on  the  part  of  all  assem- 
bled.    Group  breaks  up.     LADY  BEAU- 
BOYS  shakes  her  head,  and  shows  surprise 
and  vexation.) 

SIR  V.     And  now,  gentlemen,  if  Mrs.  Suleny  will 
allow  us,  we  will  take  your  opinion  on  this  work  of  art. 
ALMA.     Sir  Valentine,  oughtn't    the  artist  to   be 
present  while  his  picture  is  criticised  ? 

SIR  V.  Certainly.  (ALMA  rings  bell.)  It  cannot 
fail  to  be  instructive  to  him  to  hear  these  gentlemen's 
views. 

(SALLY  gets  up  to  JORGAN,  and,  unnoticed  by 
all  the  others,  winks  very  slyly  and 
wickedly  at  him.  He  shows  great  sur- 
prise, horror,  and  indignation,  and 
moves  away  from  her  for  a  moment.  She 
follows  him,  does  this  all  through  the 
interview.) 

Enter  WHEELER,  right. 

WHEELER.  Miss  Soar  is  outside,  ma'am,  and  says 
she  must  come  in. 

ALMA  (resignedly  shrugs  her  shoulders].  By  all 
means.  Show  Miss  Soar  in,  and  ask  Mr.  Hesselwood 
if  he  will  kindly  come  here. 

(WHEELER  stands  back  a  step  to  let  Miss 
SOAR  pass  him.  Announces  "  Miss 


26          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  I  Enter,  right,  Miss  SOAR,  a  maiden  lady  of  about  thirty- 
five,  very  nervous  and,  delicate -looking,  in  a  very 
plain  dress,  with  a  very  high  collar  all  round  the 
neck,  a  pale,  sharp  face,  features  drawn  into  an 
expression  of  pained  earnestness.  She  enters 
hurriedly,  panting,  one  hand  on  chest,  the  other 
carrying  a  bundle  of  pamphlets. 

Miss  SOAR  (excitedly}.  Am  I  in  time  ?  (Gives 
a  pamphlet  to  LADY  BEAUBOYS.)  Am  I  in  time  ? 
(Gives  a  pamphlet  to  ALMA,  goes  up  to  SIR  VALENTINE.) 
Am  I  in  time  to  make  my  voice  heard  ? 

SIR  V.  (soothingly}.  My  dear  lady,  I  believe  so. 
Take  a  seat.  (Gets  her  seated.  She  sits  down  out  of 
breath.)  On  what  particular  subject  would  you  like 
to  address  us  ? 

Miss  SOAR.  There  is  but  one  subject  that  con- 
cerns the  women  of  England  to-day. 

SIR  V.     Dress,  I  should  say  ? 

Miss  SOAR.  Yes.  Read  that.  (Forcing  a  pam- 
phlet into  his  hand.)  I  cannot  tell  you  how  it  shocks 
me  to  discuss  these  subjects  with  those  of  the  opposite 
sex. 

SIR  V.  Very  well,  my  dear  lady,  don't  do  it,  don't 
do  it !  For  I  assure  you  it  shocks  us  quite  as  much. 

Miss  SOAR  (hand  on  chest,  breathing  painfully). 
And  I  suffer  constantly  from  spasms 

SIR  V.  Very  well,  my  dear  lady,  stop  at  home  and 
attend  to  them. 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          27 

Miss  SOAR.     How  can  I  ?     How  can  I  rest,  how  ACT  I 
can  any  modest  woman  rest,  how  can  any  modest 
man  rest,  while  thousands  of  our  countrywomen  are 
wearing  evening  dresses  every  evening  ? 

SIR  V.  Well,  they  must  wear  something.  What 
do  you  propose  for  evening  wear  ? 

Miss  SOAR.  A  simple  gown,  fastened  tightly  round 
the  neck. 

SIR  V.  Something  like  the  one  you  are  wearing 
now? 

Miss  SOAR.  Yes.  Excuse  me  (hand  on  chest},  I 
have  a  slight  spasm. 

SIR  V.  (sympathetically).  Perhaps  a  little  loosen- 
ing of  the  neckband 

Miss  SOAR  (horrified).  Oh  no,  please !  I'm 
better  now.  Promise  me  you'll  read  that  (alluding  to 
pamphlet  in  his  hand},  and  never  rest  till  our  legis- 
lature has  made  it  impossible  for  English  women  to 
insult  themselves  by  wearing  low-necked  dresses. 

SIR  V.     What,  all  English  women  ? 

Miss  SOAR.     Yes,  all. 

SIR  V.  No!  No!  But  I  don't  mind  a  com- 
promise. Ladies  over  forty  to  submit  to  your  regula- 
tions. Ladies  under  forty  to  do  as  they  please. 

(SALLY  again  comes  up  to  JORGAN,  and,  un- 
noticed by  the  others,  slyly  winks  at  him. 
He  looks  at  her  again  with  somewhat 
less  indignation  than  before,  and  moves 
away.) 


28         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  I  JORGAN  (moving  away  from  SALLY).  Come  !  Isn't 
it  time  we  had  a  peep  at  this  classical  masterpiece  ? 

Miss  SOAR.  Oh,  Mr.  Jorgan,  if  there  is  anything  in 
it  that  would  shock  any  modest  woman,  or  any  modest 
man,  why  look  at  it  at  all  ? 

SKEW,  (blinking  viciously).  Just  so  !  Burn  it,  I 
say !  Burn  it,  and  have  done  with  the  iniquity. 

WAPES  (in  a  slow,  wheezy  voice).  No,  I  shouldn't 
say  burn  it.  I  should  say  lock  it  up  somewhere  where 
it  can't  be  seen,  eh,  Mr.  Modlin  ? 

MOD.  (vaguely  looking  at  the  ceiling).  Yes,  in  a 
damp  room. 

ALMA.  Don't  you  think  you  may  as  well  look  at 
the  picture  before  you  condemn  it  ? 

Miss  SOAR.  Oh,  do  not  let  us  run  any  risk.  Oh, 
how  can  people  be  so  wicked  ?  I'm  sure,  Mr.  Pote, 
you  agree  with  me. 

POTE  (meekly,  bobbing  up  and  down).  Yes,  let  us 
ask  ourselves  what  will  be  conducive  to  the  interests 
of  morality.  I  always  do  all  I  can  to  help  on  morality. 
That's  my  rule  in  life,  and  I  do  wish  everybody  would 
follow  it. 

LADY  B.  Oh,  Mr.  Pote,  this  is  a  very  moral  picture, 
quite  calculated  to  promote  the  best  and  soundest 
morality  amongst  the  masses,  I  assure  you.  And 
when  the  artist  comes  he  will  be  able  to  show  you  its 
beauties. 

BLAGG  (in  a  measured,  solemn  twang,  his  body  sway- 
ing to  and  fro,  his  arms  repeating  his  one  mechanical 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES         29 

gesture).  We  ain't  here  to  inquire  into  its  beauties,  ACT  I 
Lady  Beauboys.  (SKEWETT  nods  and  blinks?)  We 
are  here  to  ask  our  consciences  this  solemn  question, 
is  it  a  elevating  exhibition  for  my  boy  Thomas  when 
he  brings  the  j'ints  of  a  morning  ?  Likewise  what  will 
be  the  momentious  effects  in  after  life  on  the  grocer's 
boy  if  he  happens  to  catch  sight  of  it  ?  Likewise  the 
baker  ?  Likewise  the  greengrocer  ? 

SIR  V.  And  the  milkman,  Mr.  Blagg.  Don't 
forget  that  the  milkman  has  morals  that  require  con- 
stantly looking  after. 

BLAGG  (very  aggressively).     Likewise  the  milkman. 

(SKEWETT  nods  and  blinks?) 
SIR  V.     And  your  boy  Thomas,  where  is  he  ? 
BLAGG  (same  aggressive  tone).     My  boy  Thomas  is 
employed  in  the  minding  of  my  horse  and  gig  in  the 
yard  at  the  back  of  this  house. 

SIR  V.      We'll  have  him  in.      Mrs.  Suleny,  the 
butcher  boy's  morals  are  at  stake.    He  ought  to  be  here ! 
ALMA  (ringing  the  bell).     Oh,  by  all  means  bring  in 
the  butcher  boy ! 

(SALLY  has  again  sauntered  after  JORGAN. 
She  passes  by  him,  nudges  him  with  her 
elbow  as  if  by  accident,  winks  at  him 
unnoticed  by  the  others.  JORGAN  again 
starts,  shows  less  surprise,  less  horror, 
less  indignation,  cannot  understand  it, 
glances  at  her  qucstioningly  for  an  ex- 
planation ;  she  again  winks,  he  pulls 


30          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  I  himself  together,  looks  at  her  very  sternly. 

Mean  time  WHEELER  enters,  right.  ALMA 
speaks  to  him  in  dumb  show.) 
ALMA   (to  WHEELER,   at  conclusion  of  JORGAN'S 
business  with  SALLY).     Yes,  bring  him  in.     (Looking 
off.)     And  here  comes  the  artist  himself. 

Enter,  right,  WILLIE  HESSELWOOD,  a  bright,  eager 
young  fellow  of  twenty-five. 

ALMA  (introducing).  Sir  Valentine,  may  I  present 
Mr.  Willie  Hesselwood?  (They  bow)  Willie,  these 
gentlemen  are  now  ready  to  inspect  your  picture. 

WILLIE  (dubiously).  Delighted,  but  (looking  at 
them)  I'm  sure  they  won't  understand  it. 

LADY  B.  Oh,  I'm  sure  they  will — when  you've 
explained  it  to  them. 

Miss  SOAR  (suddenly).  Oh,  it  is  so  wrong  to  be 
present.  I  feel  I  cannot  stay  ! 

SIR  V.  Very  well,  my  dear  lady,  don't!  Run 
away  !  Run  away  ! 

Miss  SOAR.     I  must — and 

(Puts   her  hand  suddenly   on   chest.      POTE 
comes  up  to  her  sympathisingly) 

POTE.  Spasms  again?  (Gives  her  his  arm,  leads 
her  out)  Gentlemen,  if  you  please.  Miss  Soar  has 
spasms  !  If  you  please !  (In  a  confidential  aside  to 
the  group  as  he  passes)  Spasms  !  Spasms  ! 

(Takes  her  off  very  officiously  and  tenderly, 
left,  walking  on  tiptoe  up  and  down) 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          31 

Enter  WHEELER,  right.  ACT  I 

WHEELER  (announcing).     Thomas  Blagg. 

THOMAS  BLAGG,  a  boy  of  about  fourteen,  enters  very 
uncomfortably,  self-conscious,  glancing  round  nerv- 
ously, evidently  very  much  afraid  of  his  father ; 
he  is  approaching  the  centre  of  stage. 

BLAGG  (sternly}.     Thomas,  you  stand  where  you  be, 
and  you  behave  yourself. 

(Stands  THOMAS  face  to  audience  with  his  back 
to  easel,  where  he  remains  all  the  while.) 
THOMAS.     Yes,  father. 

(Cap  in  hand,  stands  at  attention,  meets  his 
father's  eye,  shifts  about  uncomfortably 
all  through  the  interview.) 

SIR  V.  (solemnly).     One  word,  Thomas  Blagg,  you 
have  seen  the  picture  on  that  frame  ? 

(THOMAS  glances  very  nervously  at  his  father^ 

looks  very  uncomfortable) 
BLAGG  (sternly).     Can't  you  speak  ? 
THOMAS.     Yes,  father. 

SIR  V.     And  when  you  saw  the  picture,  Thomas, 
what  did  you  say  ? 

THOMAS.     What  be  I  to  say,  father  ? 
BLAGG.     Speak  the  truth  for  once,  if  you  can. 

THOMAS.     I  says 

(Pause — looks  nervously  at  his  father) 


32         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  i       BLAGG.      The  whole  truth  and  nothing  but  the 
truth,  you  young  «£«•      Now  !     What  did  you  say  ? 

THOMAS  (ntr^jvsfy).  I  says — I  says — I  says — "Oh, 
crikey  and  Jeoroosalem,  ain't  she  a  jolly  stunner  ! " 

(BLAGG  threatens  THOMAS  in  dumb  show. 
SALLY  has  again  followed  JORGAN,  who 
turns  round  to  WILLIE.) 

JOR.  (impatiently).     Now,  Mr.  Artist,  will  you  show 
us  your  picture  ?     What  do  you  call  it  ? 
WILLIE.     A  Bacchante. 

JOR.  A  Bacchante?  What's  that?  A  sort  of 
female  Bacchus,  eh  ? 

SALLY.     Female !     Ha ! 

WILLIE.  Well,  not  precisely — but  perhaps  that's 
near  enough. 

JOR.      Oh  no,  it  isn't.      Mr.   Skewett,  you're  an 

apostle  of  temperance 

SKEW,  (blinking).  Yes.  And  I  want  a  plain  answer 
to  a  plain  question.  Is  this  picture  a  female  Bacchus, 
or  is  she  not  ? 

WILLIE  (drawing  the  cord,  and  flinging  off  the  cover). 
Gentlemen,  she  is  just  whatever  you  please !  Say 
what  you  choose  of  her.  She'll  make  no  reply. 

(Laughs  at  them,  goes  upstairs  at  back  and 
sits  up  there  apart  the  rest  of  the  inter- 
view. JORGAN  is  standing  back,  he 
presses  a  step  forward,  looks  at  the  picture^ 
and  then  looks  at  SALLY  surprised.} 
SALLY  (to  JORGAN).  That  is  me ! 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          33 

(Goes  and  stands  apart  from  him.  JORGAN  ACT  I 
follows  her  with  his  eyes  furtively  every 
now  and  then.  The  others  come  up  to 
the  picture  in  a  group,  look  at  it,  look 
at  each  other.  CORBY  has  a  fit  of  in- 
voluntary tittering  which  he  checks  under 
BLAGG'S  solemn  frown,  looks  in  his  hat. 
The  others  look  perplexed,  tincomfortable, 
shocked,  stand  round  and  stare  at  each 
other.} 
'  SIR  V.  Well,  gentlemen  ? 

WAPES.  Outrageous  !  Outrageous  and  audacious 
I  call  it ! 

MOD.     Ain't  fit  to  be  seen  by  respectable  people. 
SKEW.     Burn  it !     Burn  it ! 

(Blinking  energetically.) 

BLAGG.  Are  we  living  in  heathen  Greece  and 
Rome,  or  is  this  Market  Pewbury?  (Shakes  his  fist 
threateningly  at  THOMAS.)  Oh,  Thomas  ! 

(THOMAS  begins  to  cry.) 
WAPES.     Shocking  to  a  degree  ! 
SIR  V.     Shocking  to  what  degree,  Mr.  Wapes  ? 
WAPES.     Shocking  to  that  degree  as  Mrs.  Wapss 
wouldn't  have  it  in  our  drawring-room. 

SIR  V.  Ah,  you  think  Mrs.  Wapes  would  object 
(Turning  to  MODLIN.)  And  what  would  Mrs.  Modlin 
say? 

MOD  Mrs.  Modlin  would  blush  to  have  an  opinion 
on  such  a  matter. 

D 


34          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  i       SIR  V.  (turning  to  BLAGG).     And  Mrs.  Blagg? 

BLAGG  (very  aggressively).  Mrs.  Blagg  is  my 
property  I  believe,  not  yours  ! 

SIR  V.     Is  Mrs.  Blagg  the  stout  lady  in  the  green 
dress  whom  I  saw  at  the  shop  door  ? 
BLAGG.     She  is. 

SIR  V.  (emphatically].  She  is  your  property,  not 
mine  !  And  may  I  ask  what  Mrs.  Skewett  would  say  ? 

(Indicating  picture?) 

SKEW.     Before  Mrs.  Skewett  went  to  glory  she  had 
,      precisely  the  same  opinions  on  every  subject  that  I 
had.     I  took  care  of  Mrs.  Skewett's  opinions. 

SIR  V.  (aside  to  ALMA).  She'd  change  them  the 
first  chance  she'd  got. 

Re-enter  POTE,  left,  with  his  tiptoe  walk. 

POTE.  I've  attended  to  Miss  Soar's  spasms,  and 
now  perhaps  I  may  be  permitted  to  see  the  picture. 

SIR  V.     Certainly.     This  way,  Mr.  Pote. 

(POTE  gets  up  to  the  picture.} 

POTE.  Oh  dear !  Oh  dear  !  It  cannot  be  con- 
sidered as  conducive  to  the  interests  of  morality, 
can  it  ? 

SIR  V.  (to  CORBY).  And  you,  sir,  what  do  you 
think  of  the  picture  ? 

CORBY  (nervously ',  with  an  inclination  to  titter). 
Well,  I  was  just  saying  to  Mr  Wapes  that  I  really 
don't  see  as  she's  so  very  bad — not  if  she  had  a  little 
more  on  round  her  neck — and  so  forth. 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          35 

LADY  B.     Well,  that  can  be  easily  managed.     Mr.  ACT  i 
Hesselwood,  can't  you  put  a  few  more  frills  on  your 
Bacchante  ?     Just  a  little  lace,  or  something,  eh  ? 

WILLIE.  I  won't  change  a  rag,  or  a  ribbon,  or  a 
button  of  her  to  save  an  empire  from  perdition  !  She's 
as  perfect  as  I  can  make  her. 

SIR  V.  Now,  gentlemen,  you've  all  seen  the  picture, 
have  you  made  up  your  minds  ? 

SKEW.     Yes,  we  have  made  up  our  minds. 

BLAGG.  Likewise  the  minds  of  our  wives,  likewise 
our  daughters,  likewise  our  sons. 

(Threatens  THOMAS  very  severely?) 

SIR  V.  I  can  quite  understand  that  the  ladies  of 
Market  Pewbury  may  for  personal  reasons  object  to 
any  outside  standard  of  feminine  perfection  being 
placed  before  the  eyes  of  their  husbands.  I  can  also 
understand,  judging  from  Mr.  Blagg's  proud  assertion 
of  his  possession  of  Mrs.  Blagg,  that  Market  Pewbury 
has  not  quite  the  same  standard  of  feminine  perfection 
as  heathen  Greece  and  Rome.  It  seems  to  me  that 
the  matter  is  capable  of  being  settled  in  a  way  that 
will  be  very  agreeable  to  all  concerned.  Those  of 
you  who  are  shocked  and  find  their  feelings  and  their 
morals  hurt  by  looking  at  the  picture,  please  to  hold 
up  your  hands. 

(BLAGG,  MODLIN,  SKEWETT,  POTE,  WAPES 
put  up  their  hands  decidedly.  COR  BY 
puts  his  up  a  little,  way  verv  undecidedly. 
JORGAN  is  about  to  put  his  up,  SALLY 


36         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  I  passes  by  him  and  jogs  his  elbow.     He 

puts  up  both  hands  instantly.) 
SIR  V.     Please  to  keep  your  hands  up.     Now ! 
You're  all  quite   sure  that   you're   shocked   by  this 
picture  ?  (Chorus  of  "  Yes,  yes,  yes.") 

SIR  V.     It  rouses  evil  thoughts  in  your  breasts  ? 
(Chorus  of  "Yes,  yes,  yes,"  JORGAN  looking 

at  SALLY.) 

SIR  V.  Very  well.  Then  if  I  were  you  I  wouldn't 
look  at  it.  On  the  other  hand,  those  of  us  whose 
morals  and  feelings  are  more  robust,  ought,  I  think, 
to  be  allowed  to  look  at  it  as  much  and  as  often  as 
we  please. 

(Going  up  to  it,  looking  at  it  with  evident 

admiration) 

JOR.  Oh  no,  Sir  Valentine,  we  aren't  going  to 
allow  you  privileges  that  we  deny  to  ourselves. 

SIR  V.  You're  going  to  look  after  my  morals  as 
well  as  your  own  ? 

JOR.  Well,  we  fancy  that  your  morals  want  a  lot 
of  looking  after.  Of  course,  we  shall  be  delighted  to 
find  that  we're  mistaken.  Gentlemen,  I  shall  call  a, 
public  meeting  of  our  fellow-townsmen,  and  move  that 
this  picture  is  harmful  to  the  morals  of  Market  Pewbury, 
and  I  shall  demand  its  instant  destruction. 

SIR  V.     Mr.  Hesselwood,  is  this  picture  for  sale  ? 
WILLIE.     If  any  one  will  buy  it,  and  will  let  me 
paint  another  like  it,a  or  (glancing  at  SALLY)  a  lovelier 
one,  if  I  can. 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          37 

''    SIR  V.     What's  the  price  ?  ACT  i 

WILLIE.  Well,  I  don't  know.  Two  hundred 
pounds  ?  A  hundred  ? 

SIR  V.  I'll  post  you  a  cheque  for  two  hundred 
pounds  to-night,  and  I'll  send  for  it  as  soon  as  I  get 
back  to  the  Court. 

JOR.     You've  bought  the  picture? 

SIR  V.     I've  bougnt-  the  picture. 

JOR.  I  shall  be  obi.ged  to  mention  that  at  the 
public  meeting.  And  also  to  demand  its  instant 
removal,  and  the  instant  removal  of  this 

SALLY.  Ah,  I  will  not  be  a  female.  If  you  call 
me  that,  I  will  call  you — I  will  call  you — a  pretty, 
pretty  gentleman  !  Ha  ! 

JOR.  And  now,  gentlemen,  as  our  business  is 
done,  suppose  we  indulge  in  a  little  pleasure.  Come 
and  take  a  stroll  round  with  me,  gentlemen,  and  I'll 
show  you  the  alterations  that  I'm  going  to  make. 

ALMA  (surprised^.     Alterations,  Mr.  Jorgan? 

JOR.  Yes,  Mrs.  Suleny.  You  don't  forget  that  I've 
got  the  remainder  of  your  lease.  I  propose  to  take  it 
up  at  Michaelmas,  or  sooner  if  quite  convenient. 

ALMA.     But  surely  you  cannot  carry  on  the  studios. 

JOR.     No.     Nothing  so  useless. 

ALMA.     May  I  ask  what  you  are  going  to  do  with  it  ? 

JOR.  I'm  going  to  establish  our  great  Boot  and 
Shoe  and  Closed  Uppers  Orphanage  Asylum  here. 
Yes,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  if  you'll  do  me  the  honour 
to  pay  me  a  visit  here  six  months  from  to-day,  instead 


38          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  i  of  a  lot  of  lazy  artists  and  Bacchantes  philandering 
about  the  premises  with  next  to  nothing  on,  I'll  show 
you  four  hundred  and  fifty  happy  innocent  little  boot 
and  shoe  darlings,  eating  their  bread  and  treacle,  and 
drinking  their  milk  and  water,  all  of  them  well-washed, 
well-combed,  and  with  manners  and  morals  that  are 
a  credit  to  our  profession.  Good-day,  Mrs.  Suleny. 
Good -day,  Sir  Valentine.  Come  along,  gentlemen, 
111  show  you  the  playground  I've  marked  out  for  our 
little  dears ! 

(Exeunt  CORBY,  SKEWETT,  MODLIN,  WAPES, 

left.) 

SALLY.  Oh,  the  little  dears  !  I  will  see  that  play- 
ground ! 

(Exit  JORGAN.      SALLY  winks  at  him  as  he 

goes  off,  and  follows  him.} 

BLAGG.  Thomas,  my  son,  you  march  straight  home 
and  walk  upstairs,  Thomas,  to  your  room,  and  you 
take  off  your  coat  and  trousers,  Thomas,  and  you  wait 
there  till  I  come,  Thomas,  my  son. 

THOMAS  (in  mortal  fright}.  Oh,  crikey  and 
Jeeroosalem  ! 

(Bolts  off,  followed  by   BLAGG.      POTE   ap- 
proaches SIR   VALENTINE   meekly   and 
humbly,  on  tiptoe.) 
SIR  V.     Well  ? 

POTE.      I'm  the  treasurer  of  our  Boot  and  Shoe 
Orphanage. 

SIR  V.      Indeed ! 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          39 

POTE.  I  trust  you'll  support  us.  (Offers  his  hand,  ACT  i 
SIR  VALENTINE  very  reluctantly  gives  his.)  I  shall 
call  on.  you  for  a  subscription.  (Shakes  hands  very 
cordially,  goes  to  door,  and  turns  round  with  a  sweef 
smiled)  I  shall  call  on  you  for  a  subscription,  Sir 
Valentine. 

(Exit  POTE,  left.  SIR  VALENTINE,  speechless 
for  a  moment,  shakes  POTE'S  grasp  off 
his  hand,  stares  helplessly  at  ALMA. 
WILLIE  comes  downstairs,  and  looks  at 
the  picture.  SIR  VALENTINE  looks  after 
POTE  very  savagely?) 

SIR  V.  If  that  man  comes  after  me  for  a  subscrip- 
tion  

LADY  B.  You'll  give  him  one.  How  could  you 
be  so  mad  as  to  give  money  to  that  girl  in  front  of  all 
those  people  ? 

SIR  V.     Because  I'd  promised  it  to  her. 
LADY  B.      Then  make  such  donations  in  private. 
Do  you  know  what  will  be  said  of  you  ? 

SIR  V.  I  don't  know,  and  I  don't  care.  But 
(looking  after  POTE)  if  that  man  calls  on  me  for  a 
subscription,  I'll  blow  up  his  four  hundred  and  fifty 
orphans,  bread  and  treacle  and  all ! 

LADY  B.  (shakes  her  head  at  him).  Come  and 
see  me  to  my  carriage.  (To  ALMA.)  You're  to  come 
back  with  me,  my  dear. 

ALMA.  Oh,  but  I've  a  lot  of  things  to  do.  It 
will  take  me  quite  an  hour. 


40          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  i  LADY  B.  Then  I'll  send  the  carriage  for  you. 
At  any  rate,  I'll  try  and  save  your  reputation.  (Bows 
to  WILLIE.)  Come,  Val. 

(Exeunt  LADY  BEAUBOYS  and  SIR  VALEN- 
TINE, left.) 

ALMA  (looking  round).  A  boot  and  shoe  asylum  ! 
My  poor  father  !  Willie,  did  you  hear  ? 

WILLIE.  Did  you  hear  ?  My  picture  sold  !  Two 
hundred  pounds  !  I  can't  bear  to  let  her  go. 

ALMA  (very  tenderly).  Willie,  can't  you  cure 
yourself  of  this  foolish  fancy  ? 

WILLIE.     No — at  least  I  shan't  try. 

ALMA.     You  must  see  that  she  is 

I     WILLIE.     Speak  it  out ! 

ALMA.     That  she  is  utterly  unworthy  of  you. 

WILLIE.  Yes,  I  see  that,  and  I  don't  see  that.  I 
know  it,  and  yet  it's  a  lie.  Look  at  her  ! 

ALMA.  How  can  you  love  a  woman  who  is — not 
good? 

WILLIE.  What's  that  got  to  do  with  it  ?  She  can 
make  me  paint.  Art's  only  hypocrisy,  you  know. 

ALMA.     Willie,  that's  not  so  ! 

WILLIE.  Yes,  I  tell  you.  Art's  hypocrisy.  So's 
love  !  So's  religion !  When  I  was  a  child  I  was 
always  pretending.  Now  I'm  grown  up  I'm  pretend- 
ing still.  If  I  were  to  say  to  myself,  "  This  girl  is,  as 
I  feel,  as  I  know  she  is,  light,  wicked,  heartless  !  She's 
all  I  daren't  think  of— she'd  sell  the  immortal  soul 
she  has  not  got  for  a  brooch  or  a  bonnet,"  if  I  were 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          41 

once  to  say  that  of  her,  my  hand  would  drop  and  I  ACT  i 
couldn't  paint  a  stroke.  So  I  say  to  myself,  "  She's 
divine,  and  I'm  her  mate!  She's  one  half  the 
universe  and  I'm  the  other !  She's  the  dream  of  all 
the  ages  come  true  for  one  moment  for  me  to  paint !  " 
When  I  stuff  myself  with  such  taradiddles — and 
believe  them — it  makes  me  worth  forty  Titians,  forty 
Raphaels  !  She's  Helen,  Cleopatra,  Rosalind,  Juliet, 
anything,  and  I'm  her  master  !  So  I'll  keep  on  lov- 
ing her ! 

ALMA.     I  wish  that  she  had  never  come,  Willie. 

WILLIE.  When  she  goes,  the  world  will  be  nothing 
but  a  boot  and  shoe  asylum  for  orphans  like  me. 

SALLY  enters  left.  ALMA  goes  to  door,  right,  looks  at 
WILLIE  with  great  sympathy  and  interest.  Exit 
ALMA,  right. 

SALLY.  Ah,  my  poor  little  fool !  Some  day  when 
I  am  ver'  rich  you  shall  paint  me  once  more. 

WILLIE.     You'll  be  rich  some  day  ? 

SALLY.  Yes.  A  great  milord  is  coming  to  fall  in 
love  with  me.  He  will  buy  me  dresses  and  pretty 
things  just  what  I  ask  him.  I  shall  say,  "  I  love  that 
villa."  He  will  say,  "  It  is  nothing,  I  will  buy  it  for 
you."  "I  love  that  ring."  He  will  say,  "It  is 
yours."  "  I  love  those  bracelets,  those  diamonds, 
those  pearls,"  and  he  will  chuck  them  all  over  me. 
I  will  be  one  great  big  plaster  of  diamonds  all  over  here. 
(Putting  her  hand  over  her  chest.)  Ah  !  Ah  !  he  is 


42          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  i  coming  !  I  can  see  him  (putting  up  her  two  hand1;  to 
her  eyes,  using  them  like  spy-glasses  and  looking  through 
them),  that  great  silly  milord. 

(WILLIE  looks  at  her,  seizes  her  hands.) 
SALLY  (squeals).     Ah  !     Let  me  go  !     Let  me  go  ! 
WILLIE.     I  hate  you  !     I  hate  you  ! 

(Releases  her  ;  rushes  to  door,  right.) 
SALLY.     Ah,  you  are  a  fool ! 
WILLIE.     Yes,  I  am.  (Rushes  off,  right.) 

SALLY  (goes  to  door,  left;  beckons,  calls  off). 
Pretty,  pretty  gentleman  !  (Beckoning.)  Come  here, 
pretty,  pretty  gentleman ! 

Enter  JORGAN,  left,  as  if  hypnotised,  his  whole  manner 
and  bearing  as  if  he  were  doing  it  most  unwillingly. 

SALLY.  Pretty-pretty,  you  are  rich,  are  you  not  ? 
You  like  my  picture  ? 

JOR.  (boorishly).      No. 

SALLY.  That  is  one  great  big  lie.  You  know  you 
love  me  ver'  ver'  much.  But  you  do  not  love  me  in 
this  dress.  Ah,  you  are  right,  you  do  not  know  how 
lovely  I  will  be  in  a  robe  of  blue  velvet  with  beautiful 
gold  lace. 

JOR.     No. 

SALLY.  Oh  yes.  Blue  velvet— oh,  I  will  be 
charming !  And  in  red  satin !  What  you  think, 
beautiful  red  satin  covered  all  over  with  shiny  brights, 
like  my  eyes.  Look  at  my  eyes. 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES         43 

** 

JOR.     No.  (Same  tone.)      ACT  I 

SALLY.  Oh  yes.  And  it  will  cost  nothing  but 
forty  pounds. 

JOR.  Forty  pounds !  Don't  you  come  any  of 
your  games  on  me !  (She  winks  at  him.)  Forty 
pounds  ? 

SALLY.  Yes,  I  will  tell  you  where  to  buy  it.  Ah, 
you  are  wicked ! 

JOR.     No — no,  I'm  not. 

SALLY.  Yes,  yes,  you  are  as  wicked  as  you  are  / 
beautiful.  I  can  see  it  in  your  eye.  (Putting  her 
finger  nearly  in  his  eye.)  Let  me  look  in  your  eye. 
(He  submits,  very  troubled.  She  looks  in  his  eye, 
suddenly  squeals.)  Ah  !  (Running  away  from  him  ; 
he  runs  after  her.)  Ah !  Go  away !  You  are 
wicked !  Go  away !  Go  away  ! 

i 
Enter  POTE,  left.     JORGAN  stands  solemn  and  stern. 

SALLY  (to  POTE).  He  is  wicked  that  pretty,  pretty 
gentleman.  (Exit,  right.) 

POTE.     Are  you  ready  to  go  ? 

JOR.  (taking  out  purse).  In  one  moment,  Pote; 
take  this.  (Giving  note.) 

POTE.     What  for? 

JOR.  Ten  pounds  for  the  new  wing  of  the  orphan- 
age. Pote,  there  isn't  a  man  in  Market  Pewbury  that 
keeps  a  stricter  watch  on  himself  than  I  do,  and  if 
I'm  ever  led  away  for  one  moment  from  the  strict 


44          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  i  path,    I   always    make   ample    reparation.     Take  it 
Order  our  pony  round.     I'll  join  you  directly. 

(Exit  POTE,  lefty  a  little  puzzled.     JORGAN  is 

following,  at  the  door  he  suddenly  turns, 

stands  irresolute,  goes  up  to  door,  right, 

where  SALLY  has  gone  off,  checks  himself, 

comes  back  to  the  picture,  looks  at  it. 

His  eye  falls  on  the  swords  ranged  round 

\     the  room.     He  looks  round  carefully  at 

\    all  the  doors,  takes  down  a  sword,  stabs 

\  it  through  and  through  the  picture,  drops 

the  sword,  and  creeps  off  noiselessly,  left.) 

CURTAIN. 
(Four  months  pass  between  Acts  L  and  II.) 


ACT  II 

SCENE — THE  SAME,  THE  PICTURE  AND  EASEL 
REMOVED 

Discover  WILLIE  HESSELWOOD  in  ulster  and  with 
travelling  cap  as  if  prepared  for  a  journey. 

Enter  ALMA,  right. 

ALMA.     Ah,  Willie,  you're  ready  to  start  then  ?        ACT  n 

WILLIE.  Yes.  London  to-night !  And  straight 
away  to  Rome  to-morrow  morning,  thanks  to  Sir  VaL 
What  a  brick  he  has  been  to  me ! 

ALMA.  He  has  quite  made  up  to  you  for  the  loss 
of  the  picture  ? 

WILLIE.  Yes,  so  far  as  money  goes.  But  I'd  give 
one  of  my  ears  and  the  tip  of  my  nose  to  bring  it 
home  to  that  beast  Jorgan. 

ALMA.  I'm  afraid  we  shall  never  be  able  to 
prove  it 

WILLIE.  No.  But  I'm  quite  sure  it  was  Jorgan. 
However,  it's  no  use  crying  over  damaged  Bacchantes ! 


46         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

4CT  ii  ALMA.  You've  quite  got  over  your  foolish  attach- 
ment to  this  girl  ? 

WILLIE.  Oh  yes.  That's  all  done  with.  Though 
just  to  make  sure  that  I'm  an  interesting  person,  I 
pretend  sometimes  that  I've  got  a  cannon-ball  here. 

ALMA.     Where  ? 

WILLIE.     Here,  where  my  heart  ought  to  be. 

ALMA.     I  cannot  understand 

WILLIE.     What? 

ALMA.  How  you  could  have  wasted  your  love  on 
such  a  woman. 

WILLIE.  Oh,  she  fascinated  me.  I  knew  I  was  a 
fool,  and  I  knew  she  was — what  does  it  matter  what 
she  is  ?  But  I  did  love  her  !  Yes,  I  did  love  her  ! 

ALMA.  Why  haven't  you  done  another  picture  of 
her? 

WILLIE.  I  couldn't.  The  inspiration  was  gone. 
These  last  few  months  I've  hated  her. 

ALMA.     Why  ? 

WILLIE.  Oh,  the  moment  I  took  off  the  property 
halo  and  the  property  wings  I'd  lent  her,  I  saw  she 
wasn't  an  angel  at  all,  but  only  an  animal. 

ALMA.     Why  didn't  you  let  me  send  her  away  ? 

WILLIE.  ,  Because  I  really  wished  to  paint  the 
picture  for  Sir  Valentine. 

ALMA.  For  Sir  Valentine,  (^itterfy.)-  Yes,  I 
suppose  her  picture  would  have  a  great  value  for  Sir 
Valentine. 

WILLIE.     No.     It's  not  that.     Sir  Valentine  only 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES         47 

wished  to  have  her  picture  for  the  sake  of  encouraging  ACT  11 
me. 

ALMA.  But  you've  heard — no,  I  won't  speak  of 
this  gossip  !  But  you  might  have  told  me,  Willie. 
Then  she  would  have  gone,  and  we  should  have  been 
spared  all  this  scandal  and  disgrace. 

WILLIE.  I  thought  the  old  feeling  for  her  would 
come  back  again.  Now  I  know  it  never  will.  That's 
the  reason  I'm  off  to  Rome.  I  shall  get  some  fresh 
inspiration  there. 

ALMA.  And  do  you  take  your  property  wings  and 
property  halo  with  you  ? 

WILLIE.  Yes,  to  stick  them  on  the  first  thing  in 
petticoats  that  meets  me. 

ALMA.     Is  that  a  man's  love  ? 

WILLIE.     Well,  it's  an  artist's. 

ALMA.  And  the  cannon-ball  ?  Is  that  a  property 
cannon-ball  ?  And  your  heart,  is  it  a  property  heart  ? 

WILLIE.  No,  not  altogether.  I  did  love  her,  and 
she  taught  me  how  to  paint,  that's  one  comfort.  I'll 
grind  her  down  into  pictures.  I'll  get  some  gorgeous 
flesh-tints  out  of  her  before  I've  done  with  her. 

ALMA.  Oh,  Willie,  you  shan't  say  it's  all  hypocrisy. 
Art  isn't  hypocrisy. 

WILLIE.     No,  not  to  the  artist. 

ALMA.  Love  isn't  hypocrisy,  religion  isn't  hypocrisy. 
Tell  me  before  you  go  that  love  and  religion  are 
realities. 

WILLIE.     Yes,  to  everybody  but  the  artist;  but 


48         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  ii  they  must  never  be  anything  more  than  playthings  to 
him,  or  he's  done  for. 


Enter  WHEELER,  right,  announcing  LADY  BEAUBOYS. 

WILLIE.  Good-bye.  Thanks  for  all  your  goodness 
to  me.  Thanks  again  and  again.  (Goes  a  step  or  two 
from  her,  returns.)  I  want  to  tell  you  something 
before  I  go.  Sir  Val  has  only  been  good  to  me 
because  he  knew  it  would  please  you. 

ALMA.     Ah  no  !  I  can't  believe  that.     Good-bye. 


Enter  LADY  BEAUBOYS.     Exit  WHEELER. 

ALMA.     Mr.  Hesselwood  is  leaving  for  Rome. 

LADY  B.  Yes,  so  Sir  Valentine  told  me.  Good- 
bye, Mr.  Hesselwood. 

WILLIE.  Good-bye,  Lady  Beauboys.  I  shan't  for- 
get Sir  Val's  kindness,  and  I'll  paint  him  a  Bacchante 
some  day  !  By  Jove,  my  next  Bacchante !  She  shall 
bewitch  creation ! 

(Exit,  left,  with  great  buoyancy?) 

ALMA.  And  now  he  is  gone  I  can  get  rid  of  that 
girl.  She  must  go  to-day.  (Rings  bell} 

LADY  B.  My  dear,  of  course  she  must  go.  I 
can't  think  why  you've  allowed  the  hussy  to  stay  here 
so  long. 

ALMA.  Willie  said  he  couldn't  paint  his  picture 
without  her. 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          49 

LADY  B.     He  hasn't  been  able  to  paint  it  with  her.  ACT  n 

ALMA.  What  reason  shall  I  give  her  for  sending 
her  away  ? 

LADY  B.     Her  conduct. 

ALMA.     What  conduct  ? 

LADY  B.  Surely  to  be  seen  in  the  High  Street  of 
Market  Pewbury  in  a  blue  velvet  dress  with  gold 
embroidery  is  sufficient  reason  of  itself  to  prove  that 
she  is  not  a  desirable  inmate  of  any  respectable  house. 
To  say  nothing  of  the  red  satin  with  the  spangles. 

WHEELER  enters  at  door,  right. 

ALMA.  Will  you  find  Mademoiselle  Lebrune,  and 
say  that  I  wish  to  see  her  at  once  ? 

(Exit  WHEELER,  right.) 

ALMA  (anxiously  going  to  her).  Lady  Beauboys, 
you  fear — what  I  fear? 

LADY  B.  I  certainly  should  have  thought  that 
Val  would  have  had  better  taste. 

ALMA.     Than  to  stoop  to  such  a  creature. 

LADY  B.  Oh,  I  don't  mean  taste  in  creatures.  I 
mean  taste  in  dresses.  The  blue  velvet!  The  red 
satin  !  Though  certainly  the  hussy  looks  very  piquante 
in  them. 

ALMA  (very  anxiously).  Then,  Lady  Beauboys,  you 
do  think  Sir  Valentine 

LADY  B.     My  dear,  all  this  finery  must  come  from 
some  rich  fool's  pocket.     There  aren't  many  rich  fools 
E 


SO          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  ii  in  Market  Pewbury.  If  Val  isn't  the  identical  rich 
fool,  who  is?  At  any  rate  we'll  give  ourselves  the 
benefit  of  the  doubt,  and  start  the  baggage  about  her 
business. 

ALMA  (bitterly].     How  can  men  lower  themselves  ? 

LADY  B.  Ah,  how  can  they,  the  wretches  ?  How 
can  they?  How  can  they?  How  can  they?  The 
only  answer  to  that  conundrum  is,  "They  can,  and 
they  do,  and  they  will."  As  to  Val,  he's  like  every 
young  man,  that  is,  every  healthy  young  man  that 
ever  lived.  Nature  has  brought  him  to  this  great 
banquet  of  life  and  pleasure,  given  him  an  appetite, 
and  spread  the  table  in  front  of  him.  Do  you  think 
he'll  turn  his  back  on  the  feast  because  Market 
Pewbury  shouts  out  that  it's  wicked  to  taste  ?  No ! 
He'll  sit  down  to  it.  And  it's  no  use  blaming  him. 
If  anybody  is  to  blame,  it's  Nature. 

ALMA.  It  seems  to  me  that  Nature  is  a  dreadful 
bungler  in  everything  that  she  does  for  women. 

LADY  B.  Yes.  There  does  seem  to  be  a  screw 
loose  somewhere.  But  depend  on  it,  after  all,  Nature 
is  wiser  than  any  of  us,  wiser  than  any  old  woman 
amongst  us,  wiser  even  than  any  young  woman  amongst 
us.  And  it's  no  good  scolding  her,  for  she  will  have 
her  way.  What  we  have  to  do  as  guardians  of  our 
homes,  guardians  of  our  children,  guardians  of  what  is 
called  morality,  is  to  behave  ourselves,  set  a  very  high 
price  on  ourselves,  make  our  homes  attractive,  and 
bash  away  the  minxes.  It's  no  use  bashing  away  the 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          51 

men.     That  only  drives  them  into  the  arms  of  the  ACT   i 
minxes.     Now !     We'll  bash  away  this  minx  in  blue 
velvet.     Where  is  she  ? 

ALMA.     It's  a  hateful  world.     Are  all  men  alike  ? 

LADY  B.  Every  son  of  the  old  Adam  that  I 
have  ever  met  had  a  strong  family  likeness  to  his 
father. 

ALMA.     But  Sir  Valentine  seemed  so  different 

LADY  B.  You  mean  that  he  has  paid  you  a  great 
deal  of  attention  lately. 

ALMA.     I  mean  nothing.     I  was  mistaken. 

LADY  B.  No,  my  dear,  I  think  not.  I  believe — I 
feel  sure — that  Val  is  really  attached  to  you. 

ALMA.   Oh  no,  no !    He  can't  be,  or  he  wouldn't 

LADY  B.  My  dear,  trust  me ;  I'm  quite  sure  he 
cares  for  you,  and  when  we've  bashed  away  this 
minx 

ALMA  (indignantly).  What  then  ?  When  the 
superior  attractions  of  impudence,  immodesty,  and 
vulgarity  are  taken  out  of  a  man's  way,  then  perhaps 
the  feeble,  wishy-washy  charms  of  modesty,  constancy, 
good  manners,  and  ladyhood  may  stand  their  poor 
little  chance  of  captivating  his  heart !  No,  Lady 
Beauboys,  I  don't  mind  owning  to  you  that  I  believe 
I  could  have  cared  very  deeply  for  Sir  Valentine, 
very,  very  deeply.  But  I  won't  (almost  in  tears]  be 
second  where  this  woman  has  been  first,  or  (dropping 
voice  to  bitter  sneer)  fifty -second  where  she  has  oeen 
fifty-first. 


$2          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  ii  LADY  B.  Very  well,  my  dear.  But  don't  den}> 
yourself  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  her  safely  off  the 
premises. 

^nter  SALLY,  right^  gorgeously  arrayed  in  a  blue  velvet 
dress  with  gold  trimming,  and  a  very  large  hat 
with  broad  ribbon -sir ings,  and  smothered  with 
bunches  of  flowers  and  feathers.  She  enters  with 

^  great  impudence  and  assurance,  and  cheerfully 
salutes  them  with  a  profound  mock  courtesy. 

SALLY  (blithely}.  How  do  you  do?  (To  ALMA, 
who  takes  no  notice.)  How  do  you  do?  (To  LADY 
BEAUBOYS,  who  glares  very  indignantly  at  her.}  I  am 
ver'  much  glad  to  see  you.  (LADY  BEAUBOYS  glares 
fiercely.)  You  are  not  ver'  much  glad  to  see  me? 
Well,  I  do  not  care  one  leetle,  leetle  d. 

(LADY  BEAUBOYS   indignantly  points  to  her 
dress  and  hat} 

SALLY  (looking  at  her  dress).  What  is  the  matter  ? 
You  not  like  my  dress?  I  think  it  goes  me  deuce 
well.  (LADY  BEAUBOYS  again  points  indignantly  at 
the  hat}  Ah,  my  hat !  (Takes  off  her  hat)  He  is 
tipsy,  my  hat !  (Smacks  it,  and  then  sticks  it  im- 
pudently on  her  head  the  wrong  way,  the  roses  and 
ribbons  and  feathers  waggling)  How  you  like  that  ? 
( Wagging  her  head  at  LADY  BEAUBOYS.) 

LADY   B.    (sternly).      Where    did    you   get   these 
clothes  ? 

SALLY     At  a  shop  in  London.     I  go  up  to  London 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          53 

and  I  say  to  the  patron,  "  Make  me  some  pretty,  A.CT  n 
pretty  dresses.  Make  me  so  charming  as  will  send 
every  man  cracked  all  over  his  head  when  he  look  at 
me  ! "  He  say,  "  Oh,  Mademoiselle,  I  cannot  make 
you  so  charming  as  you  are  ! "  I  say,  "  Get  out !  Be 
not  a  silly  fool ! "  He  say  (putting  herself  in  a  very 
languishing  attitude,  hand  on  breast),  "Oh,  I  cannot 
help  myself  when  I  look  at  you  ! "  I  say,  "  Get  out ! 
No  D.  N." 

LADY  B.  (solemnly).     What  is  "  D.  N.  "  ? 

SALLY  (slowly  and  mysteriously).  "D.  N."  is  what 
you  say  in  England. 

LADY  B.  (trying  to  recollect,  and  turning  to  ALMA 
interrogatively).  We  don't  say  "D.  N."  in  Eng- 
land? 

SALLY.     No,  you  dare  not  say  it,  but  you  think  it 

LADY  B.     What  does  it  mean  ? 

SALLY.  Ask  Sir  Valentine;  he  will  tell  you. 
Well,  I  say  to  the  patron,  "Get  out!  No  D.  N. 
Make  me  the  pretty,  pretty  dresses ! "  And  he  make 

them,  and 

(Strikes  an  attitude  with  outstretched  arms, 
that  shows  off  the  dress.) 

LADY  B.  (same  stern,  indignant  tone).  Where  did 
the  money  come  from  ? 

SALLY.     From  my  pocket. 

LADY  B.     From  your  pocket  ? 

SALLY  (turns  out  the  pocket  of  her  dress ;  shows  it 
quite  empty).  See,  I  have  made  it  quite  empty. 


54         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

• 

P 

ACT  ii       LADY  B.     Yes ;  but  you're  making  somebody  else's 
pockets  quite  empty. 

SALLY.     Somebody  else  ?    Who  is  he  ? 

LADY  B.  Yes.  Who  is  he  ?  Who  is  he  ?  That's 
what  I  want  to  know.  Who  paid  for  this  ?  (Pointing 
to  the  dress  indignantly.)  And  this  ?  (Pointing  to  the 
hat.)  Do  you  hear  ?  Who  paid  for  them  ? 

(SALLY  strokes  her  chin,  and  then  very  slowly 
and  elaborately  winks  at  LADY  BEAU- 
BOYS.) 

LADY  B.  (throws  up  her  arms  in  despair ;  goes  to 
ALMA).  My  dear  !  Tell  her  to  go  ! 

ALMA  (who  has  been  watching  the  scene  with  great 
interest).  Mademoiselle  Lebrune,  you  will  please  to 
leave  the  studios  this  evening. 

SALLY  (alarmed).  Leave  the  studios  this  evening  ! 
Where  will  I  go  ? 

ALMA.     Where  you  please. 

SALLY  (goes  to  LADY  BEAUBOYS).  Where  will  I 
go  ?  Where  will  I  go  ? 

LADY  B.  Go  home  to  your  mother,  and  ask  her 
to  take  off  all  this  flummery,  and  make  a  decent, 
respectable  girl  of  you  ! 

SALLY.  No  !  I  will  not  go  home  to  my  mother  ! 
I  will  not  make  a  decent,  respectable  girl  of  me !  I 
will  not  leave  the  studios  this  evening. 

ALMA.     You  will  leave  the  studios  this  evening. 

SALLY  (very  firmly  and  defiantly  bangs  her  hat  on 
her  head}.  Ver'  well !  If  I  leave  the  studios  I  will 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          55 

make  a  great  blow-up.      Ha  !      Beware  of  this  little  ACT  n 
bow-wow !  (Showing  her  teeth.') 

LADY  B.     How  dare  you  threaten  us,  you  hussy  ! 

SALLY.  Hussy  !  I  will  not  be  a  hussy  !  I  will  L 
not  be  a  female  !  Oh  !  You  make  me  get  out  ? 
Ver'  well,  somebody  else  who  pay  for  this  (touching  her 
dress\  and  this  (touching  her  hat)  will  get  out  with  me. 
Ha  !  I  will  give  Market  Pewbury  fits  !  And  beans  ! 
And  fireworks !  I  will  flare  up  Market  Pewbury  ! 
Hip!  pip!  hooray!  (Claps  her  hat  on  her  head.) 
Hooray ! 

(Exit    left.      LADY    BEAUBOYS   and   ALMA 
stand  looking  at  each  other  in  dismay.) 

ALMA.     What  does   she  mean  ?     Will  she  harm 
Sir  Valentine  ?  disgrace  him  ? 

Enter  WHEELER,  right,  announcing  SIR  VALENTINE 
FELLOWES. 

Enter  SIR  VALENTINE,  right.     Exit  WHEELER. 

SIR   V.     How   d'ye    do,    auntie  ?     (Approaching 
ALMA  very  tenderly^)     How  d'ye  do,  Mrs.  Suleny  ? 
ALMA  (coldly).     How  do  you  do  ? 

SIR    V.        I     called     to (stops    embarrassed'^ 

What's  the  matter  ? 

ALMA.     Will  you  please  tell  him,  Lady  Beauboys  ? 

(Exit,  rtght^ 

SIR  V.  (looks  after  her).     Am  I  in  disgrace  ? 
LADY  B.     Don't  you  deserve  it  ? 


56         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  ii  SIR  V.  Well,  yes,  generally.  But  what  is  the 
particular  instance  ? 

LADY  B.     This  hussy. 

SmV.     Which  hussy? 

LADY  B.  This  one  here.  I  think  it's  disgraceful 
of  you  men,  when  we  shut  our  eyes  as  we  do ;  when 
we  make  believe,  as  we  do,  that  certain  things  have 
no  existence ;  when  the  whole  course  of  our  social  life 
is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  huge  organised  decep- 
tion for  the  purpose  of  masking  your  weakness  and 
wickedness,  and  indulging  our  silly  delusion  that 
there  is  a  single  one  of  you  that  can  be  good  and 
constant  to  us  for  a  single  hour — I  think  it's  disgrace- 
ful of  you  men  not  to  play  the  game  fairly  and  keep 
'  these  impossible  persons  out  of  our  way.  They  don't 
exist.  There  are  no  such  people.  Why  won't  you 
help  us  in  keeping  up  the  social  sham  when  we  do  it 
all  for  your  sake  ? 

SIR  V.  That's  a  very  pretty  little  sermon,  auntie, 
but  what's  it  got  to  do  with  me  ?  I've  played  the  game 
fairly.  I've  never  pretended  to  be  better  nor  worse 
than  I  am.  I've  never  been  ashamed  of  being  a  man, 
or  wanted  Nature  to  alter  the  whole  course  of  her 
physiological  economy  to  suit  my  convenience.  And 
though  I  can't  pretend  to  an  unlimited  stock  of  con- 
stancy, yet  I  think  I've  a  passably  good  allowance — 
tor  a  man.  And  as  for  any  particular  hussy — upon 
my  word  I  don't  know  what  you  mean. 

LADY  B.     This  model  creature — this  Bacchante. 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES         57 

SIR  V.  I  haven't  seen  her  for  some  weeks.  The  ACT  n 
last  time  I  came  here — well,  auntie,  I'll  tell  you  the 
truth — I  did  have  rather  a  narrow  squeak — the  little 
wretch  set  her  cap  at  me — and  I'd  a  jolly  good 
mind — but  Mrs.  Suleny  was  here — I'm  really  fond  of 
her — and — I  was  wise.  Yes,  it's  the  only  time  in  my 
life  that  I've  been  when  a  pretty  woman  was  con- 
cerned. But  I  was  wise  for  once.  I  can  say  that 
for  myself. 

LADY  B.  Is  that  the  truth,  Val — the  real,  down- 
right truth  ? 

SIR  V.  The  real,  downright  truth,  auntie.  That's 
the  reason  I've  kept  away  from  the  studios.  And  I 
only  came  to-day  to  tell  Mrs.  Suleny  that  she  won't 
be  pressed  again  by  the  Market  Pewbury  tradesmen. 
Fentiman  has  been  able  to  make  an  arrangement 

LADY  B.     With  your  money  ? 

SIR  V.  Never  mind  how.  She  won't  be  troubled 
any  more,  and  I'm  trying  to  get  back  the  lease  of  this 
place,  so  that  she  can  carry  on  the  studios. 

LADY  B.  Well,  I  hope  you  won't  succeed.  High 
art  will  never  flourish  in  Market  Pewbury.  No. 
Better  wind  it  up  and  let  Jorgan  come  in  wit'i  his 
little  bread-and-treacle  darlings. 

SIR  V.      And  what  will  become  of  Mrs.  Suleny  ? 

LADY  B.  (with  meaning).  Can't  you  find  another 
career  for  her  ? 

SIR  V.     I'll  try. 

(The  door  bell  is  heard  to  ring  of.) 


58          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  ii       LADY  B.     It  won't  be  a  good  match  for  you,  Val,  so 
far  as  money  is  concerned.     But  I  like  her,  and  it's 
my  duty  to  get  you  married,  and  keep  you  out  of 
mischief.     (WHEELER  crosses  from  right  to  left.     LADY 
BEAUBOYS  going  to  door,  right ;  comes  back.)     Then 
it  wasn't  you  who  paid  for  the  blue  velvet  dress  ? 
SIR  V.     Not  I. 
LADY  B.     Nor  the  red  satin  ? 
SIR  V.     Not  I. 

LADY  B.     Then  who  did?     (Going  off,  very  em- 
phatically.)    Then  who  did  ? 

(Exit,  right.     WHEELER  admits  JORGAN  and 

POTE,  door,  left.      POTE  enters  in  his 

usual  tiptoe  way.      JORGAN  enters  very 

apprehensively  and  nervously,    a  great 

change  in  his  manner  since  the  last  Act.) 

JOR.  (to  WHEELER).     Don't  disturb  Mrs.  Suleny. 

Don't  disturb  anybody.     Say  that  we  merely  wish  to 

go  upstairs  and  take  a  few  measurements  for  the  new 

dormitories  if  it's  quite  convenient. 

(Looks  round  apprehensively.   Exit  WHEELER, 
right.     SIR  VALENTINE  nods  curtly  at 
JORGAN.      JORGAN  nods  curtly  at  SIR 
VALENTINE.     POTE  comes  up   to    SIR 
VALENTINE   in  his  offensively  amiable 
way,    holds   out  his   hand,    insists   on 
shaking  hands  with  SIR  VALENTINE.  ) 
POTE.     I  hope  I  see  you  quite  well,  Sir  Valentine. 
SIR  V.  (giving  his  hand  reluctantly).     Thank  you, 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          59 

Mr.  Pote,  I'm  as  well  as  can  be  expected  under  my  ACT  «i 
present  painful  circumstances.  (Withdrawing  his 
hand  rather  forcibly?)  I  feel  a  little  better  now.  Mr. 
Jorgan,  I  sent  Mr.  Fentiman  to  you  to  propose  that 
Mrs.  Suleny  should  continue  the  lease  of  the  studios. 
I'm  prepared  to  pay  you  a  very  handsome  price  if 
you'll  give  her  back  the  lease. 

JOR.  Quite  impossible.  I  want  to  take  over  the 
premises  at  once,  and  as  she's  rather  hard  up,  I  should 
think  it  would  answer  her  purpose  to  clear  out  and  let 
us  come  in  immediately.  This  is  my  great  life-work, 
the  establishment  of  this  orphanage,  and  I  want  to 
hurry  it  on. 

SIR  V.  But  you  can  take  your  orphans  elsewhere. 
There  are  other  sites  quite  as  desirable  from  the  point 
of  view  of  sanitation  and  morality,  and  quite  as  advan- 
tageous for  the  consumption  of  bread  and  treacle. 

JOR.  No  there  aren't.  I'm  going  to  make  this 
spot  a  great  centre  of  moral  influence  for  the  boot  and 
shoe  trade.  I'm  going  to  make  a  clean  sweep  of  all 
the  present  abominations. 

SIR  V.  Abominations,  Mr.  Jorgan  !  What  abom- 
inations ? 

JOR.  Artists,  and  pictures,  and  Bacchantes  and  so 
forth.  Art  itself  is  an  abomination,  and  leads  to  all 
sorts  of  bad  and  evil  courses. 

SIR  V.  Are  you  speaking  from  experience,  Mr. 
Jorgan  ? 

JOR.      Yes.      At  least  not  personal  experience. 


60         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  ii  But  I've  seen  quite  enough  of  art  to  convince  me  it's 
not  the  sort  of  thing  for  Market  Pewbury. 

SIR  V.     Mrs.  Suleny's  father  left  her  this  place  in 
trust      She  thinks  it's  a  sacred  duty  to  obey  him.     If 

I  offered  you  a  very  large  sum 

JOR.     I  shouldn't  take  it.     I  hold  the  lease  of  this 
place  from  your  late  uncle,  and  the  very  moment  my 
term  begins,  out  goes  every  man -jack  artist,  every 
picture,  everything  and  everybody  in  this  place,  out 
they  go  into  the  road  at  the  very  tick  of  the  clock 
when  I  come  in.     Now,  does  that  satisfy  you  ? 
SIR  V.     Quite.     Good  day.      (Is  going  of,  left.) 
POTE  (follows  him  to  the  door,  gets  in  his  way).     I'm 
sorry  we  can't  oblige  you,  Sir  Valentine,  but  really  I 
do  think  we're  doing  what  is  best  for  morality. 
SIR  V.     Do  you  ? 

POTE.     And,  Sir  Valentine  (stopping  him),  I  shall 
call  on  you  for  a  subscription  for  our  orphanage. 

(Offering  his  hand,  SIR  VALENTINE  will  not  take  it.) 
SIR  V.     Don't. 

POTE  (very  amiably).  Oh  yes,  I  shall. 
SIR  V.  Don't.  I  wish  to  treat  every  one  who 
comes  to  the  Court  with  courtesy,  but  as  sure  as  you 
come  there  for  a  subscription  for  any  damned  thing 
under  the  sun,  I'll  tell  my  servants  to  take  you  by  the 
ear  like  this  (taking  POTE'S  ear),  and  kick  you  from 
the  front  door  to  the  lodge  gates. 

(Exit,    left.      POTE   stands   aghast,    terribly 
upset  for  some  moments?) 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          61 

JOR.     Now,  Pote,  let's  make  haste  and  get  this  job  ACT  u 
over.     I  don't  want  to  hang  about  here. 

POTE  (comes  very  slowly  from  the  door^  much  ruffled 
in   his  meek  way,   turns  round  and  looks  after  SiR 
VALENTINE,  much  upset).     Did  you  hear  his  language  ?      / 
And  I've  always  been  so  nice  to  him. 

(Turns  again  and  looks  after  SIR  VALENTINE 
more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger.) 

JOR.  Never  mind  him.  We  shall  get  an  oppor- 
tunity of  making  a  public  example  of  him  one  of 
these  days. 

POTE  (still  ruffled).  Yes.  I  always  forgive  my 
enemies,  but  I  should  like  to  make  an  example  of 
him  in  the  interests  of  morality. 

JOR.  Wait  till  he  stands  for  Parliament  (Looking 
round  very  nervously?)  I  wish  they'd  come  and  let  us 
see  over  those  upstair  rooms.  We  can't  do  with  less 
than  three  more  dormitories,  can  we  ? 

POTE.  We  ought  to  have  four,  and  then  we  shall 
be  overcrowding.  You  said  something  about  another 
subscription 

JOR.  Yes,  but  I  can't  afford  it,  Pote.  My  ex- 
penses have  been  very  considerable  lately. 

POTE.  You'll  excuse  me,  but  I  do  think  you  were 
a  little  too  generous  in  giving  that  two  hundred  pounds 
to  our  widows'  homes  three  months  ago. 

JOR.  That  was  a  peculiar  gift,  made  under  very 
peculiar  circumstances. 

POTE  (inquisitively).    W  hat  peculiar  circumstances  ? 


62          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  n  JOR.  (troubled'].  Very  peculiar  circumstances,  Pote. 
I  cannot  quite  explain  them. 

POTE.     You  must  have  been  tempted  very  much. 

JOR.  Tempted!  Tempted!  What  leads  you  to 
suppose 

POTE.  Well,  I  know  you  make  it  a  rule  to  keep 
a  strict  watch  over  yourself,  and  when  you  find  your- 
self likely  to  be  led  astray,  you  sentence  yourself  to 
pay  a  fine  to  some  charitable  institution,  don't  you  ? 

JOR.  (troubled].  Yes,  yes.  On  some  occasions  I 
do — as  a  sort  of  moral  compensation. 

POTE.  I  do  think  it  is  such  a  splendid  rule  of 
conduct.  How  I  do  wish  everybody  would  follow  it ! 
How  all  our  charitable  institutions  throughout  the 
land  would  benefit,  wouldn't  they  ? 

JOR.     Yes,  yes,  they  would. 

POTE  (very  inquisitively],  I  suppose  on  this  occa- 
sion, eh  ?  eh  ? — you  must  have  been,  eh  ? 

JOR.  Well,  I  don't  mind  owning  to  you,  Pote,  I 
was — I  was  placed  in  a  most  unfortunate  position, 
Pote.  Nine  men  out  of  ten  would  have  forgotten 
themselves. 

POTE.  I  am  so  glad  you  didn't  forget  yourself 
And  what  was  this  unfortunate  position  ? 

JOR.  We  will  not  pursue  the  subject.  Suffice  it 
to  say  that  I  remembered  what  was  due  to  myself  and 
to  MatKet  Fewbury.  I  passed  through  the  ordeal 
unscathed.  What  are  you  looking  at  ? 

POTE.     Nothing !     Nothing !     So  you  resisted  ?  , 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          63 

JOR.   (very   indignantly).      Of  course   I   resisted !  ACT  n 
(Louder '}    Of  course  I  resisted !    Of  course  I  resisted ! 

POTE.     I  am  so  glad.     But  what  a  large  amount  of 
moral  compensation  you  would  have  paid  if  you  nad      / 
yielded,  wouldn't  you  ? 

JOR.     We'll  drop  the  subject. 

(SALLY'S  whistle  heard  off,  left.} 

POTE  (who  is  standing  opposite  the  door,  looks  off). 
There's  that  Bacchante  person.  She's  gone  up  to 
stroke  our  pony. 

JOR.  (alarmed].  How  dare  she  stroke  our  pony? 
How  dare  she  stroke  our  pony  ? 

SALLY  (outside).  Woa,  woa,  pretty,  pretty ! 
(  Whistling  continued}  Pretty,  pretty,  woa,  woa,  woa  ! 

JOR.  (much  frightened,  bursts  out}.  Now,  are  we  to 
be  kept  here  all  day  ?  (Stamping  and  shouting}  My 
time's  precious  !  I  want  to  see  over  this  building. 

SALLY  enters  left,  whistling,  stops  on  seeing  JORGAN. 

SALLY.  What  is  the  matter,  pretty,  pretty  gentle- 
man? 

JOR.  (taking  no  notice  of  her,  goes  to  POTE).  Pote, 
go  round  the  house  to  the  other  door,  and  ask  them 
how  they  dare  to  keep  me  waiting  like  this ! 

(Tries  to  get  POTE  off  at  door,  left} 

POTE  (a  little  protesting).  Yes,  but  what  shall  I 
say? 

JOR.  (shouting  him  down,  hustling  htm  off  at  door% 


64          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ii  left).  Go  round  and  demand  admission  !  I'm  in  my 
legal  rights.  I  have  the  lease  of  this  place.  I  want 
to  make  my  plans  for  my  new  dormitories. 

(Bundles  POTE  off  at  door,  left,  turns  to  SALLY, 
stares  at  her  in  a  helpless,  pitiable  way.) 

SALLY  (watching  him  comically].  Pretty,  pretty 
gentleman,  you  are  in  a  devil  of  a  temper  ! 

JOR.  Yes,  I  am,  so  you'd  better  keep  out  of  my 
way.  Understand,  madam,  I  decline  to  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  you.  Our  friendship,  I  mean  our 
acquaintance,  is  at  an  end.  (  Very  emphatically} 

SALLY.  Ah !  See  here,  pretty,  pretty  gentleman. 
Do  you  see?  (Carefully  opens  one  eye  with  her  hand.} 
Is  there  one  leetle,  leetle  piece  of  green  in  that  eye  ? 
No?  Well,  see  in  this  other.  (Carefully  opens  the 
other  for  him  to  look  into  it.)  No  ? 

JOR.  I  decline  to  look.  I'm  a  respectable  man, 
and  I  ask  you  in  a  respectable  way,  "  Will  you  leave 
me  alone,  or  will  you  compel  me  to  take  further  pro- 
ceedings ?  " 

SALLY.  I  think  I  will  compel  you  to  take  further 
proceedings.  Yes,  go  on  with  your  further  pro- 
ceedings. 

(JORGAN  walks  tip  and  down  distressed  and 
perplexed.) 

SALLY  (watches  him  and  folloivs  his  motions  with 
her  finger).  Ah,  that  is  ver'  amusing  when  you  show 
your  pace!  (He  stops.)  Woa,  woa,  pretty-pretty! 
Woa,  woa !  That  is  right.  Woa,  woa !  (He  begins 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          65 

again,  walking  desperately,  she  still  follows  his  motion  ACT  n 
with  her  finger!)     Gee  up  !     Gee  up  !     Pretty-pretty! 
(Imitates  horse's  action  of  walking.}     Ah,  I  love  you 
when  you  gee-up  so  beautiful  like  that ! 

JOR.  (comes  to  }ier  desperately).  Once  for  all,  I 
don't  know  you ! 

SALLY.  Ah,  that  is  what  the  funny  rascal  thief 
say  to  the  bobby-policeman.  He  say,  "Get  out,  I 
not  know  you,  Mr.  Bobby-policeman  !  " 

JOR.  (more  firmly}.  I  don't  know  you.  You  are  a 
thoroughly  bad,  disreputable  person.  And  I  wish 
you  a  very  good  day. 

(Is  stalking  off  towards  door,  left.  SALLY 
darts  in  front  of  him,  stops  him,  stands 
with  her  arms  akimbo,  her  face  bent 
forward  to  him.} 

SALLY  (defiantly).     Where  you  go,  pretty-pretty? 

JOR.  (firmly].  To  inspect  the  buildings  for  my 
c./umage. 

SALLY  (very  determinedly,   her  face  to  him}.     Go 
back,  pretty-pretty.     Go  back,  pretty-pretty  !    (He  steps 
backward  a  step  or  two,  she  follows  him  up.}     Go  back  ! 
(Driving  him  into  the  middle  of  the  room} 

JOR.  (backing}.  Look  here,  don't  you  drive  me  to 
do  something  desperate 

SALLY  (squeals  out  at  the  top  of  her  voice}.  Ah,  do 
what  you  thunder  well  please  !  Stand  on  your  blessed 
mortal  head !  Fir'  away !  Hooray !  Hooray  t 
Hooray ! 


66          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  ii  JOR.  (in  an  agony  of  fright).  Don't !  Don't ! 
Don't !  Do  be  quiet,  there's  a  good  girl !  (Sinks 
into  chair  and  cries.)  Oh,  if  I  once  get  out  of  this 
mess !  Oh,  what  a  moral  lesson  it  shall  be  to  me ! 
Oh,  what  a  warning  to  the  end  of  my  days ! 

(Sobbing.) 

Enter  POTE,  left. 

POTE  (inquisitively).     What's  the  matter  ? 

JOR.  (with  a  ghastly  attempt  to  be  calm).  Nothing. 
Nothing.  This  person  is  suffering  from  a  supposed 
insult. 

SALLY.  Get  out!  Nobody  insult  me!  That  is 
all  D.  N. 

POTE.     D.  N.  ?     What  does  she  mean  ? 

JOR.  I  don't  know.  I  can't  understand  her.  It's 
of  no  consequence.  Are  the  rooms  ready  for  our 
inspection  ? 

POTE.  The  servant  says  they  are  being  prepared, 
and  we  must  wait  here  a  few  minutes  till  they're 
ready.  But  (turning  to  SALLY),  dear  me,  dear  me, 
what  are  you  suffering  from  ? 

SALLY.  I  suffer  from — no  money.  There  is 
nothing  else  the  matter  with  me.  I  have  plenty  of 
money — all  right.  I  have  not  plenty  of  money,  then  you 
see  I  will  bring  what-you-call-him  to  Market  Pewbury. 

POTE.     Bring  who  to  Market  Pewbury  ? 

SALLY.  The  Old  Nick  gentleman.  Eh,  pretty- 
pretty  ? 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES         67 

POTE.     Pretty-pretty  !     What  does  she  mean  ?          ACT  u 

JOR.  (helplessly).  It's  impossible  to  say.  She 
keeps  on  calling  me  "  pretty-pretty  " — a  most  inappro- 
priate familiarity.  I  can't  understand  it.  We'll  go 
and  inspect  the  wash-houses,  shall  we  ? 

(Taking  POTE'S  arm,  leading  him  off.) 

SALLY.  I  will  go  and  inspect  those  wash- 
houses. 

JOR.     Not  now,  my  good  creature. 

(Trying  to  get  POTE  off.) 

SALLY.  Yes,  my  good  creature.  "  I  will  inspect, 
and  when  the  little  duckies  come  I  will  be  their 
mother,  and  give  them  their  breads  and  treacles. 

JOR.  (fiercely).  You  can't !  You  can't !  Come 
along,  Pote. 

SALLY  (very  determinedly.  Same  action  as  before). 
Go  back,  pretty-pretty !  Go  back  ! 

JOR.  Perhaps  I'd  better  listen  to  what  she  has  to 
say,  Pote.  You  go  round  to  the  other  door. 

POTE.  But  I've  been,  and  they  told  me  to  wait 
here. 

JOR.  (frenzied,  shouts).     I  will  not  wait !     I  insist  ! 
I  will  not  be  kept  waiting !     Go  and  tell  them,  Pote, 
that  I  insist  on  my  legal  rights,  as  the  owner  of  this       / 
house,  to  inspect  the  upsUlrs  premises  at  once.     Go  ! 

(Exit  POTE,  left.) 

JOR.  You  won't  b^  satisfied  till  you've  ruined  me, 
I  suppose.  Why  won't  you  take  yourself  off,  like  a 
dear,  good  girl  ? 


68         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  ir       SALLY.     Take  myself  off!     Where  will  I  go  with 
myself? 

JOR.     Go  back  to  the  Continent. 

SALLY.  Ver'  well,  give  me  plenty  money,  and  I 
take  myself  off. 

JOR.  I  can't  give  you  any  more  money.  I've 
overdrawn  at  the  bank,  and  I'm  in  a  terrible  mess. 
Mr.  Pote  begins  to  suspect  me — Mrs.  Jorgan  begins 
to  suspect  me.  They're  both  watching  me. 

(Groans,  looks  at  her  helplessly?) 

SALLY.     Mr.  Respectable  man,  you  are  pickled ! 

JOR.  Look  here !  I've  come  to  the  end  of  my 
tether. 

SALLY.     Tether?    That  is  money? 

JOR.     Yes,  in  this  case.     Not  another  sixpence. 

SALLY.  Ver'  well,  sir.  Then  7  must  take  further 
proceedings,  sir. 

JOR.     Further  proceedings  ? 

SALLY  (nods).  Mrs.  Suleny  say  to  me,  "  Get  out ! " 
I  say  to  you,  "  Mr.  Respectable  man,  you  get  out  with 
me."  Then  the  band  will  play. 

JOR.     Band!     What  for? 

SALLY.  To  march  us  out  of  Market  Pewbury,  you 
and  me,  Mr.  Respectable  man,  and  everybody  will 
look  at  us. 

JOR.  You  don't  mean  to  say  you're  going  to 
expose  me  bef  re  Market  Pewbury  ? 

SALLY.  Yes,  I  will  expose  you,  if  you  will  not 
expose  me  plenty  money. 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES      69 

JOR.    Don't  I  tell  you  it's  impossible — simply  im-  ACT  n 
' possible.    (Groans.)   Oh,  what  a  punishment  this  is! 
Surely  I  don't  deserve  such  a  punishment  as  this ! 
Oh,  what  a  moral  lesson  it  shall  be  to  me ! 

(Sits  and  sobs.)] 

Enter  SIR  VALENTINE,  left. 

SIR  V.  I  beg  pardon!  I  thought  I  should  find 
Mrs.  Suleny  here. 

(Looks  from  one  to  the  other  a  little  puzzled, 
withdraws,  left.) 

JOR.  (lifts  his  face,  which  shows  a  sudden  illumina- 
tion. He  rises  very  slowly,  follows  SIR  VALENTINE  to 
the  door, looks  after  him, comes  stealthily  up  to  SALLY, 
pauses,  looks  at  her,  then,  with  an  intensely  sinister 
suggestion,  whispers) .  Would  you  like  to  be  my  lady  ? 

SALLY  (looks  at  him  inquiringly).    Get  out ! 

JOR.  I  mean  it.  Now  listen  to  this.  Don't  you 
be  a  fool.  It's  no  good  your  hanging  on  to  me.  I 
won't  give  you  another  penny.  Do  you  understand 
that?  Not  another  penny!  If  you  expose  me  you'll 
ruin  me,  but  you'll  ruin  yourself  as  well.  You  do  as 
I  tell  you,  and  you  can  be  my  lady. 

SALLY.    My  lady?    What  my  lady? 

JOR.  My  Lady  Fellowes,  and  live  at  the  Court. 
How  would  you  like  that  ? 

SALLY.  Oh,  that  suit  me  perfectly  to  the  ground. 
But  there  is  no  leetle  bit  of  green  in  Sir  Valentine's 
eyes. 


70          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  ii  JOR.  No,  but  there  is  a  very  strong  public  feeling 
in  Market  Pewbury. 

SALLY.     Public  feeling  ?     What  is  that  ? 

JOR.  Public  feeling  always  runs  very  high  in 
England  on  questions  of  morality. 

SALLY.     Morality  ?     What  is  morality  ? 

JOR.  Morality  compels  people  to  conduct  them- 
selves properly  for  fear  of  being  found  out. 

SALLY.  Oh,  you  have  plenty  much  morality  here 
in  England.  But  me — I  have  not  ver'  much  morality 
myself,  and  how  will  I  be  my  Lady  Fellowes  ? 

JOR.  It  is  already  suspected  in  Market  Pewbury 
that  Sir  Valentine  bought  you  these  dresses. 

SALLY  (looks  at  him).      Oh,  Mr.  Respectable  man  ! 

JOR.  When  it's  known  that  he  has  compromised 
you,  a  wave  of  public  indignation  will  sweep  over  the 
community,  and  he'll  be  obliged  to  marry  you. 

SALLY.  Marry  me  ?  Get  out !  He  will  not  be 
such  a  fool ! 

JOR.  (staring  round).  Hush  !  He  can't  help  him- 
self. You  don't  know  what  English  feeling  is  in  these 
matters.  I  tell  you  he'll  be  obliged  to  marry  you,  or 
make  you  a  handsome  provision. 

SALLY.  I  have  not  want  of  provisions.  I  have 
of  plenty  money. 

JOR.     And  he'll  be  obliged  to  give  it  to  you. 

SALLY.     What  for  why  ? 

JOR.     Because  he  has  compromised  you. 

SALLY.     Ah,  get  out !      You  make  larks  of  me  ! 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES         71 

JOR.     No,  no  !      You  stick  to  it  that  Sir  Valentine  ACT  n 
[is  the  guilty  party,  and  I'll   take  care   that   public 
!  opinion  will  make  him  behave  honourably  to  you. 
j      SALLY.      Behave  honourably?     Is  that  I  will  be 
my  Lady  Fellowes  ?     QORGAN  nods.     SALLY,  dapping 
hands.)      Oh,  that  is  what  I  was  borned  for  !     I  will 
love  to  be  that.     I  will  have  plenty  of  dresses  and 
carriages  !     (Clapping  her  hands.)    You  are  sure  about 
that  public  feeling  ? 

JOR.     Quite  sure.     Leave  that  to  me. 

SALLY.     Ah,  you  are  ver'  funny  peoples  in  England  ! 

JOR.  (suggestively).  Then  it  was  Sir  Valentine 
who  bought  you  these  dresses  !  (SALLY  winks.)  You 
might  perhaps  wink  at  him. 

SALLY.     Winks  not  catch  him.     He  not  such  a  silly 
fool  as  you  was.     I  will  find  another  little  bit  of  salt    A 
for  him. 

JOR.  (looking  off,  left).     He's  coming. 


SIR  VALENTINE  enters.  JORGAN  utters  a  deep  "  Oh  !  " 
of  relief,  and  exit.  SIR  VALENTINE  has  entered 
very  carelessly,  whistling ;  is  crossing  from  left  to 
right  without  taking  any  notice  of  SALLY. 

SALLY  (calls).      My  Valentine ! 

SIR  V.  (stops  half-way  across).     Well  ? 

SALLY.     Where  you  go  ? 

SIR  V.     To  find  my  aunt  and  Mrs.  Suleny. 

(Going  a  step  or  two,  right.) 


72          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  ii       SALLY  (again  stopping  him).     My  Valentine  ! 

SmV.     Well? 

SALLY.  Why  you  run  away  from  me  ?  I  am  so 
ugly,  eh? 

SIR  V.     You  are  perfectly  charming. 

(At  door.) 

SALLY  (makes  him  a  very  polity  impudent  bow). 
Oh,  sir,  I  think  you  have  the  ver'  best  taste  of  any 
gentleman  I  ever  meet  ! 

SIR  V.  (returns  the  bow  with  great  mock  courtesy). 
Mademoiselle,  you  have  such  exquisite  taste  yourself 
(glancing  at  her  dress\  that  I  accept  your  compliment 
as  the  severest  truth.  (Going  to  door.} 

SALLY.  My  Valentine  !  (Sm  VALENTINE  turns; 
she  beckons  him.)  Will  you  please  to  come  here  for 
one  little  second  ? 

SIR  V.  (stands  irresolutely  at  the  door  a  minute  or 
two).  No.  (Opens  door ;  turns  and  looks  at  her. 
SALLY  beckons  again.  SIR  VALENTINE  stands  irreso- 
lutely for  a  moment^  then  shuts  door  ;  comes  up  to  her.) 
What  the  devil  mischief  now  ? 

SALLY.  If  I  am  so  charming,  why  you  not  try  to 
catch  me  ? 

SIR  V.     Because  I  should  succeed. 

SALLY.     You  not  wish  to  succeed  ?     Why  not  ? 

SIR  V.  Because  I  cannot  consider  you  as  a  type 
of  the  young  man's  best  companion. 

SALLY.  Oh  yes,  I  make  the  jolly  best  companion 
for  every  young  man. 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES         73 

SIR  V.     Alas !    I  fear  I  cannot  accept  you  as  a  ACT  11 
desirable  acquaintance. 

SALLY.     What  is  desirable  ? 

SIR  V.  Desirable  in  one  sense  implies  an  absence 
of  those  qualities  that  make  you  so  perfectly  desirable 
in  another ! 

SALLY.  What  qualities  make  me  desirable  acquaint- 
ance? 

SIR  V.     Well,  a  little  dash  of  modesty 

SALLY.     Ver'  well.     How  much  ? 

SIR  V.     Ah,  that's  the  point ! 

SALLY.  I  will  have  just  as  much  modesty  as  you 
thunder  well  please. 

SIR  V.  I'm  sure  you  will.  I'm  sure  all  you 
ladies  will  have,  or  pretend  to  have,  just  that  amount 
of  modesty  that  you  think  will  make  you  attractive  to 
us.  But  I'm  speaking  of  the  other  sort  of  modesty. 

SALLY.     Ah,  the  other  sort  ? 

SIR  V.     Natural  modesty.     Modesty  au  natureL 

SALLY.     Modesty  au  naturel.     What  is  that  ? 

SIR  V.     I'm  afraid  you  wouldn't  understand  it. 

SALLY.  No  matters  about  modesty  au  nature!.  I 
do  ver'  well  without  that,  eh  ? 

SIR  V.  (looking  at  her  half  contemptuous,  half 
attracted}.  Upon  my  word,  yes.  The  least  suspicion 
of  modesty  would  spoil  you  entirely.  You're  perfect 
beyond  perfection  as  you  are  ! 

SALLY  (making  him  another  mock  bow).  Oh,  sir, 
when  you  speak  all  the  mortal  truth  like  that,  you 


74          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  ii  make  me  blush  right  straight  to  those  tips  of  my 
blessed  toes.     (Putting  her  toe  out  beneath  her  dress.) 

SIR  V.  (moves  a  step  or  two  towards  her).     Ah  ! 

SALLY.  Shall  I  tell  you  a  secret?  When  I  was 
to  London  the  old  woman  tell  me  my  fortune. 

SIR  V.  And  what  was  your  fortune  my  pretty — 
maid? 

SALLY.  She  say  "  a  fine  young  English  gentleman 
is  coming  to  love  you  with  all  his  heart." 

SIR  V.     Fair  or  dark  ? 

SALLY.  I  will  show  him  to  you.  Come  here ! 
(She  goes  up  stage.)  Do  you  hear  ?  Come  here  when 
I  tell  you  !  Take  that  chair  !  Put  it  here  !  (Making 
him  put  chair  in  front  of  fireplace  and  looking-glass.) 
Now  that  other  one.  Put  it  there !  (Jumps  up  on 
one.)  Now  be  up  in  that  chair  !  (He  hesitates.  She 
speaks  very  commandingly,  rapping  on  the  mantelshelf 
with  her  knuckles?)  Do  you  hear  ?  Be  up  in  that 
chair  and  do  what  the  devils  I  tell  you.  (He  jumps 
up  beside  her.  She  turns  his  head  towards  the  looking- 
glass,  points?}  There  is  that  beautiful  young  English- 
man who  is  going  to  love  me  with  all  his  heart. 

SIR  V.  (throwing  off  restraint).     The  devil  he  is  ! 
(Puts  his  arm  round  far  waist.) 

ALMA  enters  in  gallery,  right. 

SALLY  (continuing).  The  old  woman  say,  "You 
will  make  a  lovely,  lovely  picture  together,  you  two ! " 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES          75 

1 

SIR  V.  (looking  in  the  glass).     Upon  my  word  we  ACT  II 
do,  don't  we  ? 

(ALMA  has  come  downstairs.     SIR  VALENTINE 
sees  her  in  the  looking-glass.     He  turns 
his  face  right  round  to  ALMA,  shows 
great  shame.) 
SIR  V.     Mrs.  Suleny  ! 

(Gets  off  chair )  stands  showing  intense  shame?) 
ALMA  (coming  downstairs).     I  fear  I've  intruded ! 
Pray  consider  my  house  at  your  service.     But  perhaps 
it's  unnecessary  to  tell  you  that     (Going  off,  right.) 
SIR  V.  (crossing  towards  her).      Mrs.  Suleny,  let* 

me  explain 

ALMA.  Surely  there's  no  need.  Everything  is 
perfectly  intelligible. 

SIR  V.     But  you  do  not  believe 

ALMA.     My  own  eyesight  ?     I'm  afraid  I  must. 

(Going  off.) 

SIR  V.  (again  stops  her).  Mrs.  Suleny,  this  young 
lady  will  explain  that — that  she  has  not  the  slightest 
claim  upon  me  in  the  world.  (To  SALLY.)  Is  it  net 
so  ?  (To  ALMA.)  Ask  her  yourself. 

ALMA  (comes  from  door  to  SALLY,  who  has  got  off 

chair  and  come  down  stage).     Who  gave  you  that  dress? 

(SALLY  steals  a  look  at  SIR  VALENTINE,  says 

nothing.) 

SIR  V.     Do  you  hear  ?    Why  don't  you  speak  ? 
SALLY.     Sir  Valentine  gives  me  the  money  (SiR 
VALENTINE  starts)  and  I  buy  it  in  London. 


76         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  ii       SIR  V.     I  gave  you  the  money? 

SALLY.     Here  in  this  blessed  room. 

ALMA.     You  hear  ? 

(A  slight  shrug  of  the  shoulder s>  turns.) 

SIR  V.     Mrs.  Suleny  !     On  my  honour 

ALMA.     Ah  !  not  that  stale  word,  if  you  please. 

(Exit,  right.) 

SIR  V.  (turns  round  on  SALLY).  I  gave  you  money? 
I  gave  you  nothing  but  that  one  ten  pounds.  \ 

SALLY.  Ah,  but  I  spend  it  so  well,  I  buy  all  these 
dresses  with  it. 

SiRV.     What? 

SALLY.     That  is  so  on  my  honour. 

SIR  V.  (goes  to  bell,  rings  it).  You'll  explain  to 
Mrs.  Suleny  that  you  have  no  claim  on  me — that  this 
is  a  mistake. 

SALLY.     Ah !  there  is  no  mistake. 

Enter  WHEELER,  right 

SIR  V.  Will  you  ask  Mrs.  Suleny  if  she  will  be 
kind  enough  to  step  here  for  one  moment  ? 

(Exit  WHEELER.) 

SIR  V.     You  will  tell  Mrs.  Suleny  the  truth  ? 

SALLY.  Oh  yes,  all  the  blessed  mortal  truth.  That 
you  love  me  ver'  much 

SIR  V.     What  ? 

SALLY.     And  you  will  have  honourable  intentions. 

SIR  V.  I  have  the  most  honourable  intentions  to 
keep  out  of  your  way  for  the  future ! 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES         77 

4 

SALLY.     Ah !  you  think  that  you  will  keep  out  of  ACT  n 
my  way !     Oh  no !     You  will  keep  ver'  much  in  my 
way. 

Re-enter  WHEELER. 

WHEELER.  Mrs.  Suleny  is  engaged,  Sir  Valentine, 
and  cannot  see  you. 

SIR  V.  I  must  see  her.  Please  to  say  that  it  is 
most  important.  I  must  see  her. 

(Exit  WHEELER,  right.) 

SIR  V.  Now,  let  me  understand  you.  What  the 
devil  do  you  mean  ? 

SALLY.  Oh,  sir,  you  know  ver*  well!  You  are 
the  guilty  party. 

SIR  V.     Guilty  party  !     Guilty  of  what  ? 

SALLY.  You  have  compromised  me.  You  love 
me  ver'  much.  I  love  you  ver'  much.  And  now  we 
come  to  business. 

SIR  V.     Business  ? 

SALLY.     Public  feeling  runs  very  high  in  England. 

SIR  V.     Public  feeling? 

SALLY.     On  questions  of  morality. 

SIR  V.  Morality  ?  What  have  you  and  morality 
got  to  do  with  each  other?  (Takes  her  by  the  hand^ 
drags  her  towards  right.)  You'll  come  with  me  to 
Mrs.  Suleny — — 


78          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  ii  Enter  WHEELER,  right. 

WHEELER.  Mrs.  Suleny  is  not  at  home,  Sir 
Valentine. 

(Exit  WHEELER.     SIR  VALENTINE  drops  her 

arm,  stands  perplexed.) 

SALLY.  Ah  !  (Coming  up  to  him.)  You  see  you 
must  behave  honourably  to  me.  You  must  make  me 
your  lady ! 

SIR  V.  (seizes  both  her  arms).  Make  you  my  lady ! 
I'll  see  you  at  the  devil  first ! 

(Throws  her  into  the  rocking-chair.  She 
rocks  to  and  fro  singing  a  snatch  of  a 
French  song.  He  walks  up  and  down 
the  room  in  a  tempest  of  indignation^ 
shame^  anger ^  and  bewilderment.) 

(Two  days  pass  between  Acts  II.  and  III.) 


ACT  III 

SCENE — THE  SAME 

Afternoon.  Discover  JORDAN,  WAPES,  MODLIN,  CORBY, 
BLAGG,  and  SKEWETT.  They  have  just  been  shown 
in  by  WHEELER,  who  is  crossing  to  right. 

WHEELER.      If  you'll  wait   here  a  few  minutes,  ACT  HI 
gentlemen,  I'll  see  if  the  studios  are  ready  for  you. 

JOR.  (who  is  evidently  in  very  good  spirits].  No 
hurry !  no  hurry  !  Tell  Mrs.  Suleny  to  suit  her  own 
convenience.  She's  leaving  to-day  ? 

WHEELER.  Yes,  sir,  this  evening.  She  expected 
to  leave  this  morning,  but  ton^d  she  wasn't  quite 
ready. 

JOR.  (genially).  No  hurry !  no  hurry  !  We're  so 
overcrowded  in  our  present  place  that  I've  been 
obliged  to  bring  on  my  first  batch  of  orphans  to-day. 
But  no  hurry,  so  long  as  we  can  give  the  poor  little 
dears  a  shakedown  for  the  night. 

(WHEELER  is  going  off,  right) 


8o          THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  in  JOR.  (calls  htm).  Ha  ! — have  all  the  other  inmates 
cleared  out? 

WHEELER.  Everybody  except  Mademoiselle 
Lebrune. 

JOR.  Mademoiselle  Lebrune  ?  You  allude  to  the 
young  French  female  ? 

WHEELER.     Yes,  sir. 

JOR.     And  why  is  she  allowed  to  stay  ? 

WHEELER.  Well,  sir,  we  can't  get  rid  of  her. 
Mrs.  Suleny  have  told  her  to  be  off ;  but,  so  far  as  I 
can  gather  from  her  language,  she  says  that  she'll  see 
Mrs.  Suleny — hem — further  first.  She  means  to  stick 
here  till  Sir  Valentine  comes  for  her,  she  says.  And 
an  hour  ago,  sir,  she  sends  off  a  telegram  to  Sir 
Valentine  asking  him  to  send  a  carriage  and  pair  to 
take  her  to  the  Court.  It's  the  rummest  go  as  ever 
I  heard  on.  (Giving  way  to  an  involuntary  laugh.) 

JOR.  (sternly).  Don't  laugh !  It's  no  laughing 
matter. 

WHEELER.     No,  sir. 

JOR.  Tell  Mrs.  Suleny  that  the  town  council  have 
come  to  take  formal  possession. 

WHEELER.     Yes,  sir.  (Exit,  right.) 

WAPES.  This  is  a  shocking  business  to  have 
happening  right  under  our  very  noses. 

BLAGG.  Likewise  the  noses  of  our  wives  !  Like- 
wise our  daughters  !  Likewise  our  sons  ! 

SKEW.  Drive  'em  out  of  the  town,  I  say  !  Brand 
'em  and  drive  'em  forth  from  out  our  midst ! 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES         81 

JOR.     Yes.     Let  this  be  a  great  moral  lesson  to  ACT  in 
us  all !     Let  it  be  a  warning  of  the  awful  mire  a  man 
gets  sunk  into  when  he  once  leaves  the  straight  path 
of  moral  duty  and  respectaMity.     And  let  us  all  be 
thankful  that  we  are,  I  trust,  completely  fortified. 

MOD.  (looking  up  to  the  ceiling).  Well,  I  can  speak 
for  myself. 

WAPES  Yes,  it  'd  take  a  good  deal  in  the  way  of 
feminine  corruptibility  to  lead  me  astray. 

CORBY.  So  it  would  me.  When  I  was  in  London 
last  bank  holiday,  4  very  pretty  woman,  in  a  blue 
dress,  comes  up  to  me  quite  in  a  larky  way 

JOR.  (sternly).  We  are  not  assembled  to  discuss 
females  in  blue  dresses.  We  are  here  to  install  our 
first  batch  of  orphans.  (Uneasily.)  I  can't  think 
what  has  become  of  Pote 

WAPES.  I  met  him  at  the  station  yesterday  morn- 
ing. He  said  he  was  going  to  London  on  very 
particular  business.  Ain't  he  come  back  ? 

JOR.  No;  and  he  knows  we  take  possession  to- 
day. Now,  gentlemen  (looks  all  round,  rubs  his  hands 
genially),  whilst  we're  waiting,  as  you're  all  subscribers 
to  the  asylum,  I  think  we  might  decide  what  we'll  do 
here.  This  is  to  be  the  dining-room;  and  I  think, 
to  start  with,  we'll  make  a  clean  sweep  of  all  this. 
(Pointing  to  the  hangings  and  decorations) 

SKEW.  Burn  it,  burn  it!  Don't  let  it  lead  the 
minds  of  the  orphans  from  higher  things.  Burn  it ! 

JOR.     You're  an  upholsterer,  Mr.  Wapes,  and,  with 

G 


82         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  in  the  sanction  of  my  committee,  I  shall  propose  that 
you  cart  away  all  this  rubbish,  and  re-decorate  this 
hall  in  a  chaste  and  suitable  way. 

WAPES.  Yes,  I've  got  some  nice  new  patterns  in 
curtains  and  wall-papers,  just  fresh  down  from  Totten- 
ham Court  Road,  very  pretty  and  artistic. 

SKEW.  Artistic  !  We  won't  have  anything  artistic 
here.  I  shall  withdraw  my  subscription. 

WAPES.  Don't  fly  out,  Mr.  Skewett !  There's 
different  ways  of  being  artistic.  Some  people  are 
artistic  in  one  way,  and  some  people  are  artistic  in 
another.  Let  everybody  be  artistic  in  his  own  way. 
That's  my  motto  as  an  upholsterer. 

SKEW,  (viciously  blinking  all  round).  Burn  it,  I 
say  !  burn  it  all ! 

WAPES.  Quite  so.  Burn  all  this,  if  you  like 
(sweeping  his  hand  round} ;  because  it's  in  bad  taste. 
Looking  at  it  as  an  upholsterer,  I  call  it  in  very  bad 
taste.  But  don't  burn  things  that  are  artistic  accord- 
ing to  the  taste  of  Market  Pewbury  ! 

JOR.  Well,  at  any  rate,  we'll  do  away  with  all  this. 
(Sweeping  his  hand  round ;  bell  rings  off,  left.}  And 
we'll  make  a  fresh  start.  I  can't  tell  you,  gentlemen, 
how  I  shall  devote  myself  to  the  work  of  purifying 
the  moral  atmosphere  of  this  place,  and  making  it  a 
beacon  light  to  the  great  staple  industry  of  Market 
Pewbury. 

(WHEELER  crosses  from  right  to  /<?/?,  and  goes 
to  door} 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES         83 

JOR.  (proceeding  cordially).  Let's  get  to  business,  ACT  in 
gentlemen  !  Don't  let  the  grass  grow  under  our  feet. 
Remember,  our  first  band  of  little  pilgrim  orphans  are 
already  on  their  peaceful  war-path.  I  daresay  they 
are  now  carolling  in  the  train,  and  making  every 
station  along  the  line  resound  with  their  joyous 
melody. 

WHEELER  (comes  from  door,  left,  and  brings  telegram 
to  MR.  JORGAN).  Sent  on  from  your  manufactory,  sir. 

(Exit,  right.) 

JOR.  (taking  it).     I  daresay  this  is  from  Pote. 

(Opens  it ;  looks  uneasy  and  puzzled?) 

WAPES.     Is  it  from  Mr.  Pote  ? 

JOR.     Yes. 

WAPES.     And  what  does  he  say  ? 

JOR.  I  don't  understand  it.  "Don't  proceed 
further  with  Orphanage  till  you  have  seen  me.  Most 
important.  Shall  reach  Pewbury  two  forty  -nve." 
(Taking out  watch?)  He'll  be  here  directly. 

Enter  ALMA,  left.     JORGAN  continues  to  look  at 
telegram  very  anxiously. 

ALMA.  The  west  wing  is  now  quite  cleared,  Mr. 
Jorgan,  if  you  wish  to  take  possession. 

JOR.  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Suleny.  I'm  much  obliged 
to  you  for  clearing  out  before  your  time. 

ALMA.  Don't  mention  it.  I  wished  to  leave 
Market  Pewbury,  and  it  answers  my  purpose  to  let 
you  come  in  at  once. 


84         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  in  Enter  WHEELER,  right,  announcing  LADY  BEAUBOYS. 
Enter  LADY  BEAUBOYS  with  a  light  shawl,  parasol, 
and  fan ;  during  the  following  scene  she  takes  off 
the  shawl,  and  puts  all  three  of  them  on  chair. 
Goes  to  ALMA,  shakes  hands. 

ALMA.  Wheeler,  show  these  gentlemen  to  the 
west  wing,  and  give  them  the  keys. 

WHEELER.     This  way,  gentlemen. 

(Exit,  right.  Exeunt  CORBY,  BLAGG,  MOD- 
LIN,  WAPES,  SKEWETT,  and  JORGAN. 
JORGAN  goes  last,  reading  over  the  tele- 
gram very  anxiously.} 

LADY  B.  My  dear !  (Kisses  ALMA.)  Has  Sir 
Valentine  arrived  ? 

ALMA.  Arrived?  No.  At  least,  I've  not  heard. 
He  wrote  to  me  yesterday. 

LADY  B.  And  you  didn't  reply  !  Naughty  girl ! 
Now  about  this  hussy  !  Where  is  she  ?  Still  here  ? 

ALMA.     I've  told  her  to  go. 

LADY  B.     Why  haven't  you  turned  her  out  ? 

ALMA.  Because — because  I'm  still  weak  and 
foolish  enough  to  let  her  stay  here  rather  than  she 
should  cause  disgrace  to  Sir  Valentine. 

LADY  B.  What  further  disgrace  can  she  cause 
him  ?  The  story's  all  over  the  country.  Some  corre- 
spondent has  sent  an  account  to  the  London  papers, 
and  they're  full  of  it.  She  can  surely  do  him  no 
further  harm. 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES         85 

ALMA.      I   don't   know.      I   believe   I'm    foolish  ACT  in 
enough  to  let  her  stay  here  because — oh,  isn't  it  weak 
of  me  ? — I've  been  afraid  that  she'll  go  to  him  ! 

(Ring  at  door,  left.) 

LADY  B.  My  dear,  he's  coming  here,  and  if  you 
don't  see  him 

ALMA.     What  then  ? 

LADY  B.  The  wretch  has  actually  telegraphed  to 
him  to  bring  a  carriage  and  pair  to  fetch  her. 

(WHEELER  crosses  from  right  to  left;  goes  to  door.) 

ALMA.     Well? 

I  A.DY  B.  As  soon  as  he  received  the  telegram  he 
ordered  the  new  landau  and  his  pair  of  chestnuts,  and 
he's  driving  up  here  for  that  hussy. 

ALMA.     What  ? 

LADY  B.  My  dear,  if  you  don't  take  him  in  hand, 
I  do  believe  he'll  drive  with  that  baggage  and  all 
her  baggage  through  Market  Pewbury  in  an  open 
landau ! 

ALMA.     No !     No !     Impossible ! 

(WHEELER  comes  from  door,  left.} 

WHEELER.  Sir  Valentine  Fellowes  is  outside, 
ma'am. 

ALMA.     I'm  not  at  home. 

SIR  VALENTINE  enters,  left. 

ALMA  (very  coldly,  with  great  dignity).     I'm  not  at 
home.      (Exit,    right,  followed  by   WHEELER.      SIR 
VALENTINE  stands  nonplussed.) 


86         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  in  LADY  B.  (vigorously).  Well,  now  I  hope  you're 
thoroughly  well  satisfied  with  yourself. 

SIR  V.  (grimly).  If  I'm  not  I  ought  to  be.  Look 
at  that.  (Giving  her  a  newspaper  to  read.) 

LADY  B.  (hastily  scans  it).     You've  brought  it  all 

on  yourself,  Val.     You  may  as  well  try  to  batter  down 

a  mountain  with  your  fists  as  try  to  demolish  that  dull 

*: !  hard  mixture  of  stubborn  virtue  and  stupid  hypocrisy 

which  go  to  make  up  English  middle-class  respect- 

'*  ability.     Give  it  up,  Val !     See  where  you  are !     And 

all  through  what  ? 

SIR  V.  All  through  not  being  an  out-and-out 
hypocrite  like  the  rest  of  my  neighbours. 

LADY  B.  A  little  decent  hypocrisy  is  the  first 
chemisette  that  human  nature  puts  on  when  it  grows 
out  of  fig-leaves.  See  what  you've  lost  through  not 
wearing  that  chemisette ! 

SIR  V.  I  don't  mind  a  chemisette.  But  I  do 
object  to  being  cuffed,  and  muffled,  and  bandaged, 
and  buckled  up  into  compulsory  decency. 

LADY  B.  When  you're  at  sea  you  must  obey  the 
rules  of  the  road  at  sea.  When  you're  on  land  you 
must  obey  the  rules  of  the  road  on  land.  If  you  go 
to  the  right  when  it's  the  rule  of  the  road  to  go  left, 
you  only  get  smashed  up.  Now  there's  no  living  in 
England  without  going  to  the  right  when  people  are 
looking.  You  can  go  to  the  left  as  much  as  you  like 
when  their  eyes  are  turned  the  other  way. 

SIR  V.     But  I  haven't  gone  to  the  left ! 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES         87 

LADY  B.     What  ?  ACT  in 

SIR  V.  That's  the  devil  of  it !  That's  the  hardship 
of  my  position !  I  don't  mind  being  the  hero  of  a 
scandal,  but  let  me  do  something  to  deserve  it !  Let 
me  break  some  woman's  heart,  ruin  her  reputation, 
carry  her  off  from  some  other  lover,  shoot  her  husband, 
drive  her  to  drown  herself !  As  it  is,  I'm  a  wjetched 
sham  !  I've  won  the  Victoria  Cross  of  devilry  and 
gallantry,  and  I've  done  nothing  !  Not  even  kissed  a 
chambermaid — at  least,  not  lately  ! 

LADY  B.  You  were  making  love  to  this  French 
hussy  two  days  ago. 

SIR  V.  Not  seriously.  And  I  was  interrupted 
even  at  that ! 

LADY  B.     Your  arm  was  round  her  waist. 

SIR  V.  Yes,  it  was.  And  that's  my  sole  reward, 
my  only  consolation,  for  having  lost  the  woman  whom 
I  do  really  love ;  for  having  forfeited  the  respect  of  all 
my  neighbours;  for  being  pointed  at  in  the  public 
streets ;  and  being  chaffea  and  bullied  in  all  the  news- 
papers. And  for  being  left  with  the  prospect  of  having 
to  pay  this  French  beauty  a  lot  of  money  to  get  rid  of 
her,  or  of  having  her  hanging  round  my  neck  for  the 
rest  of  my  life  ! 

LADY  B.  Your  own  fault  for  not  obeying  the  rule 
of  the  road  at  Market  Pewbury. 

SIR  V.     Damn  Market  Pewbury ! 

LADY  B.  It's  no  use  damning  Market  Pewbury. 
It's  a  good  average  bundle  of  humanity,  I  assure  you. 


88         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  in  Remember,  Val,  the  world  only  goes  on  and  hangs 
together  because  of  the  virtue  and  respectability  in  it. 
Hypocrisy  and  humbug  don't  hold  a  community  to- 
gether. Neither  does  immorality,  however  charming 
and  delightful  it  may  be.  And  though  there's  a  good 
deal  of  cant  and  humbug  in  Market  Pewbury,  there's 
a  good  deal  of  sturdy  virtue  and  honesty  too. 

SIR  V.     Ah,  just  a  trifle  too  much,  don't  you  think? 

LADY  B.  My  dear  boy,  a  certain  average  of  human 
conduct  has  got  to  be  maintained  somewhere  in  the 
world.  And  I  think  we  sinners  ought  to  be  very 
grateful  to  the  good  people  who  commit  these  excesses 
in  virtue  and  respectability,  as  it  gives  us  a  chance 
of  striking  the  balance  on  the  other  and  pleasanter 
side  without  any  danger  to  the  general  morals  of  the 
community.  Come  now  !  What  do  you  mean  to  do? 

SIR  V.  I  mean  to  strike  a  good  balance  on  the 
other  and  pleasanter  side. 

LADY  B.     How  ? 

SIR  V.  I've  lost  my  character.  That's  all  right. 
I've  spent  a  great  deal  of  money  in  paying  her  father's 
debts  and  trying  to  make  her  happy.  That's  all  right. 
I've  lost  her  and  she  thinks  me  a  deceiver  and  a 
libertine.  That's  all  right.  I'm  stared  at  and  pointed 
at  in  Market  Pewbury,  and  blackguarded  all  over  the 
country.  That's  all  right.  That's/  my  credit  account. 
I've  paid  my  scot  to  English  respectability  without 
grumbling.  Now  I'm  going  to  have  some  fun  for  my 
money!  . 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES         89 

LADY  B.     What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  ACT  m 

SIR  V.  I'm  going  to  paint  myself  ten  times  blacker 
than  Market  Pewbury  thinks  me.  My  income  is 
fifteen  thousand  a  year.  I'm  going  to  spend  it  all  for 
three  years  in  raising  the  deuce  and  shocking  Market 
Pewbury ! 

SALLY  enters,  right,  in  flame-coloured  red  satin  dresst 
covered  with  spangles,  and  hat  to  match. 

LADY  B.     My  dear  Val 

SIR  V.     My  dear  auntie v 

(LADY    BEAUBOYS    catches   sight  of  SALLY, 
draws  herself  up  with  great  hauteur?) 

SALLY  (kisses  her  hand  to  LADY  BEAUBOYS).  Ah ! 
My  dear  auntie,  I  hope  I  see  you  ver'  jolly  fit  to-day ! 

LADY  B.  You  unspeakable  creature,  how  dare  you 
address  yourself  to  me  ! 

(Turns  her  back  on  SALLY.) 

SALLY  (puts  up  both  her  hands  to  her  nose  at  LADY 
BEAUBOYS'  back,  and  winks  at  SIR  VALENTINE).  Ah, 
my  Valentine  !  You  got  my  telegram  ? 

SIR  V.     Yes,  mademoiselle. 

SALLY.  And  you  bring  your  carriage  and  gee-gees 
to  elope  away  with  me  ? 

SIR  V.     They  are  outside,  mademoiselle. 

SALLY.  And  I  will  have  your  two  footmens,  with 
all  that  flour  on  their  heads  (gesture],  to  march  after 
me  when  I  walk  myself  about  ? 


90         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  in       SIR  V.     They  are  at  your  service,  mademoiselle. 
SALLY.     Listen  to  this,  Auntie  Beauboys  ! 

(LADY  BEAUBOYS  looks  at  her  with  unutterable 
disdain^  sweeps  by  her^  rings  the  bell. 
SALLY  makes  a  grimace  at  her^  calls  SIR 
VALENTINE'S  attention  by  a  gesture  of 
the  thumb.) 

SALLY.     And  when  we  be  married,  my  Valentine  ? 
SIR  V.     Never. 

SALLY.    Never  ?    You  not  marry  me,  my  Valentine? 
SIR  V.     Not  if  you  were  the  only  charmer  of  your 
adorable  sex  on  this  unenchanted  island. 

SALLY.  Ah,  well — see  here,  my  Valentine — if  you 
not  marry  me,  I  will  make  that  public  feeling  in 
England  run  up  ver'  high  (gesture) — right  up  to  the 
blessed  ceiling,  on  questions  of  morality. 

SIR  V.     Exactly.     Make  public  feeling  run  as  high 
as  you  please.     That's  just  what  I  want  you  to  do. 
SALLY.     What  you  say  ? 

Enter  WHEELER,  right. 

LADY  B.  Please  to  find  my  footmen,  and  bring 
them  here  to  me.  (Exit  WHEELER,  left.) 

SIR  V.  (to  SALLY).  Make  public  feeling  run  up 
sky-high  !  I'll  help  you,  and  pay  you  very  handsomely. 

SALLY.  What  ?  You  pay  me  ?  Ver'  well.  What 
will  I  do? 

SIR  V.     I  want  you  to  spend  the  next  three  years 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 


of  your  life  in  shocking  Market  Pewbury  in  any  and  ACT  m 
every  possible  way  that  your  lively  imagination  can 
devise. 

SALLY.  Shock  Market  Pewbury!  Ver'  well. 
Listen  to  this,  Auntie  Beauboys ! 

SIR  V.  That  dress  of  yours  is  altogether  too 
modest  and  quiet 

SALLY.  Ah  !  (Looking  down  if.)  What  you  think, 
Auntie  Beauboys  ? 

SIR  V.     Get  something  a  little  gayer  and  smarter. 

SALLY.     Ver'  well.     You  pay  ? 

SIR  V.     Certainly.     Something  really  startling. 

SALLY.  All  right.  What  colour  you  think  suit  me 
best,  Auntie  Beauboys  ? 

SIR  V.  You'll  find  it  rather  dull  work  shocking 
Market  Pewbury  all  alone.  I'll  provide  you  with  a 
whole  regiment  of  congenial  associates. 

SALLY  (with  a  wild  shriek  of  delight).  Regiment ! 
Soldiers  !  Listen  to  that.  Auntie  Beauboys  ! 

SIR  V.  No,  not  soldiers.  But  you  have  doubtless 
a  good  sprinkling  of  friends  with  your  own  tastes  and 
habits — your  own  particular  chums,  eh  ? 

SALLY.  Oh  yes,  I  have  good  sprinkling  of  ver* 
particular  chums. 

SIR  V.  Invite  them  all  down  to  Market  Pewbury. 
Get  rooms  for  them  at  the  Bull  and  George,  and  all 
the  best  hotels.  Ask  them  to  thoroughly  enjoy  them- 
selves at  my  expense,  and  make  things  hum  all  over 
the  town. 


92         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  in  SALLY.  Oh  yes,  we  will  make  things  hum  at  the 
Bull  and  George,  and  all  over  the  town.  What  more, 
my  Valentine  ? 

SIR  V.  Do  just  whatever  you  please.  We'll  have 
a  three  years'  carnival  in  Market  Pewbury !  We'll 
paint  the  town  one  universal  blazing  red  ! 

Re-enter,  left,  WHEELER,  with  two  Footmen. 

LADY  B.  (to  WHEELER).  Go  to  your  mistress  and 
ask  her  to  please  send  me  a  maid  to  pack  this  person's 
belongings. 

WHEELER.     Yes,  my  lady.  (Exit,  right) 

LADY  B.  (to  the  Footmen).  Come  with  me  and 
bring  this  person's  boxes  down,  and  put  them  on  the 
carriage. 

SALLY.     What  you  do  with  my  boxes  ? 

LADY  B.  You  unmentionable  hussy,  I'm  going  to 
take  your  boxes  and  your  clothes  and  every  rag  you 
have,  except  what  you  stand  upright  in,  and  I  won't 
go  to  my  bed  this  night  till  I've  seen  you  and  them 
safely  out  of  this  town,  you  unutterable  creature  ! 

SALLY  (shouts).  Hi !  Some  bobbies  here !  She 
steal  my  luggages  !  Hi !  Some  bobbies — policemens 
here! 

Enter  ALMA,  right,  followed  by  WHEELER. 

!     ALMA.     What's  the  matter  ? 

SALLY.      Auntie  Beauboys  goes  to  steal  all  my 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES         93 

luggages.    (Runs  to  SIR  VALENTINE.)    What  will  I  do?  ACT  in 
Tell  me  what  I  will  do  now  ? 

SIR  V.     Go  and  look  after  your  boxes. 

SALLY.     Ah  !  (Bolts  off,  right.) 

LADY  B.  My  dear,  have  I  your  permission  to  turn 
that  person  and  her  belongings  out  of  your  house  ? 

ALMA.     The  house  is  Mr.  Jorgan's  now. 

LADY  B.  Then  I'll  turn  her  out  of  Mr.  Jorgan's 
house,  and  I'm  sure  he  ought  to  be  very  much  obliged 
to  me.  (To  WHEELER.)  Send  the  maids  to  me,  and 
take  me  to  that  person's  room. 

WHEELER.     This  way,  my  lady.       (Exit,  right.} 

LADY  B.  (to  the  Footmen).  Follow  him,  and  do  as 
I  tell  you. 

(Exeunt  Footmen,   right.      ALMA  is  going. 
LADY  BEAUBOYS  stops  her.) 

LADY  B.  (aside  to  her).  Do  take  pity  on  him! 
He'll  go  to  the  dogs  if  you  don't.  Remember  what 
we  women  are  sent  into  this  world  for — remember 
there  is  no  reason  for  our  existence  except  to  save 
these  poor  wretches  of  men  from  following  their 
natural  bent  of  going  to  the  dogs.  Do  save  him ! 

ALMA  (going  off,  protesting).     Lady  Beauboys 

LADY  B.  My  dear,  I'll  see  to  this  lady.  (At  the 
door.)  We'll  have  no  carnival  at  Market  Pewbury, 
and  the  town  shall  not  be  painted  red. 

(Exit,  right.) 

SIR  V.  Mrs,  Suleny,  I  wrote  to  you  yesterday 
asking  your  pardon.  You  did  not  answer. 


94         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  in       ALMA  (a  little  coldly}.     There  was  no  answer. 

SIR  V.     You'll  forgive  me  ? 

ALMA.     I've  forgotten  it. 

SIR  V.  (very  tenderly).     You'll  forgive  me  ! 

ALMA.  I  say,  I  have  forgotten  it.  There's  no 
more  to  say. 

SIR  V.     At  least  you  will  let  me  explain. 

ALMA.  There  can  be  nothing  to  explain.  Surely 
it's  intelligible  enough.  You  thought  you  were 
abroad 

SIR  V.  I  was  abroad.  I  was  away  from  my  best 
self. 

ALMA.  Indeed ;  and  is  that  a  frequent  occurrence 
with  you? 

SIR  V.     Not  since  I've  known  you. 

ALMA.  Surely  I  can  have  made  no  difference  to 
your — to  your  escapades  from  your  best  self. 

SIR  V.     Don't  I  tell  you  since  I've  known  you 

ALMA.  They  have  been  less  frequent.  That  is 
very  flattering  to  me.  I  sincerely  hope  they  will  be 
less  frequent  still  in  the  future.  Good-day. 

(Going.) 

SIR  V.  (intercepts  her).  No ;  you  shan't  go  till  you 
understand 

ALMA.  Very  well,  let  me  understand.  Let  me 
understand  how  it  is,  after  your  words  to  me  only  a 
few  days  ago — ah,  you  don't  know  how  I  treasured 
them  ! — how  it  is  that  the  moment  I'm  away  from  you, 
you  can  forget  me,  forget  yourself,  make  yourself  cheap 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES         95 

to  the  cheapest  creature  within  your  reach.     Let  me  ACT  n  i 
understand  how  it  is  that  men  do  these  things  ? 

SIR  V.  Because  we  are  men,  and  because  there 
is  no  folly  or  madness  too  great  for  us  where  a  woman 
is  concerned. 

ALMA.  And  have  you  much  folly  and  madness  to 
answer  for?  (Pause.}  Why  don't  you  speak ? 

SIR  V.  Surely  you  don't  wish  me  to  speak  of  what 
must  give  you  pain  ? 

ALMA.  But  I  do,  I  do,  I  do.  I  won't  forgive  you 
unless  you  tell  me  all  your  past  follies  and  madnesses. 

SIR  V.  (changing  to  a  light,  chaffing  tone}.  Very 
well,  then  I'll  make  short  work  of  them.  I've  been 
the  very,  very  worst  rascal  that  ever  lived,  and  there's 
an  end  of  it. 

ALMA.     I  don't  believe  you. 

SIR  V.  But  I  have.  But  bad  as  I've  been  in  the 
past,  it's  nothing  to  what  I  shall  be  in  the  future  if 
you  don't  forgive  me. 

ALMA.  I  don't  believe  you.  You  haven't  been 
so — so — so  thoroughly  bad  ? 

SIR  V.  (same  light,  chaffing  tone).  No;  on  the 
contrary,  I  have  been  remarkably  good.  In  fact,  if 
any  man  in  this  world  has  been  thoroughly  and 
entirely  blameless,  that  man  is  myself. 

ALMA.     I  don't  believe  you. 

SIR  V.  Very  well.  Then  I've  been  a  middling, 
average,  speckled,  neither -better -nor -worse- than -my- 
neighbour  sort  of  man.  Does  that  satisfy  you  ? 


96         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  in  ALMA.  No !  No !  Why  do  you  torture  me  ? 
Don't  you  see  that  I  want  to  forgive  you  ?  My  heart's 
aching  to  forgive  you !  Why  won't  you  tell  me  the 
truth? 

SIR  V.  (very  seriously).  I  will.  There  are  hundreds 
of  things  in  my  past  life  that  I'm  ashamed  of.  I  hide 
them  from  you,  I  hide  them  from  myself,  not  because 
I  wish  to  deceive  you,  not  because  I  wish  you  to 
think  me  white,  when  I'm — well,  not  black,  but  rather 
a  darkish  shade  of  whity- brown.  I  hide  them  from 
you  because  I  love  you,  and  I  don't  wish  to  bring 
anything  profane  into  your  presence. 

ALMA  (pleased).     Ah ! 

SIR  V.  Don't  think  that  we  men  don't  value  such 
women  as  you.  The  best  and  purest  woman  in  this 
world  doesn't  set  a  thousandth  part  of  the  value  on 
herself  that  the  man  who  loves  her  does.  We  know 
there  are  two  kinds  of  women.  And  it's  you,  and  not 
the  others,  that  we  will  have  at  our  firesides.  It's 
you,  and  not  the  others,  that  we  will  have  for  our 
mothers,  and  sisters,  and  wives. 

ALMA.     But  this  woman 

SIR  V.  She's  nothing  to  me.  She  has  been 
nothing  to  me. 

ALMA.  Oh,  don't  tell  me  that — don't  you  see  I 
want  to  forgive  you  ?  There  never  was  a  woman  so 
weak  and  foolish  as  I  am.  I'm  ready  to  forgive  you 
anything,  everything — only  do  give  me  some  reason- 
able excuse.  I  want  to  look  up  to  you.  I  want  to 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES         97 

worship  you.  I  want  to  feel  proud  that  you  are  my  ACT  in 
master.  I  will  do  it  if  you  will  only  be  perfectly 
truthful  fcnd  frank  with  me.  Oh,  do  earn  all  my  love 
and  faithfulness  by  not  deceiving  me  !  Say  that  you 
have  been  foolish  with  this  woman — that  you  have 
been  led  away — deceived  !  say  anything — put  what 
colour  you  like  on  it — only  don't  tell  me  a  falsehood 
about  her.  Be  open  with  me. 

SIR  V.  Give  me  your  hand.  Look  at  me.  Look 
straight  into  my  eyes.  You  shall  believe  me.  She  is 
nothing  to  me;  she  has  been  nothing  to  me.  The 
moment  you  discovered  us  was  the  only  moment  when 
such  £  suspicion  could  have  come  to  you.  I  was 
foolish.  It  was  only  for  a  moment. 

ALMA.     But  these  scandals  about  you  and  her  ? 

SIR  V.  They  are  only  scandals.  There's  not  a 
breath  of  truth  in  them.  You  believe  me  ? 

ALMA.     I  must  when  you  look  at  me  like  that. 

SIR  V.  No ;  believe  me  because  I'm  speaking  the 
truth. 

ALMA.     I  do.     I  will. 

SIR  V.  And  you  accept  me,  knowing  that  I've 
not  been  perfect — in  fact,  that  I've  been  very  far 
from  it. 

ALMA.  Oh,  but  you  are  perfect — at  least  as  perfect 
as  I  want  you  to  be.  I  wouldn't  have  you  changed 
a  bit  from  what  you  are.  There !  Aren't  we  women 
silly? 

SIR  V.     And  you'll  face  the  scandal  and  marry  me 

H 


98         THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

LACT  in  (She  hides  her  head  against  him.)     I  didn't  catch  your 
answer  ? 

ALMA.     When  you  please. 
SIR  V.     To-morrow  ? 
ALMA.     To-morrow. 

(WHEELER  crosses  left  to  right.) 
SIR  V.     I  must  wire  Fentiman  to  meet  me,  so  that 
I  can  get  all  my  affairs  straight.     Have  you  a  telegram 
form? 

(ALMA  goes  to  desk^  gets  telegram  form.     SIR 

VALENTINE  sits  doivn  at  table  and  writes 

message.     WHEELER  admits  POTE,  left.) 

WHEELER.     Mr.  Pote  wishes  to  see  Mr.  Jorgan, 

ma'am. 

POTE.     Oh,  if  you  please,  I  wish  to  see  him  quite 
alone.     It's  very  important. 

ALMA.     Fetch  Mr.  Jorgan  here. 

(Exit  WHEELER,  right.) 

POTE.      Thank   you   very   much.      I'm   sorry   to 
intrude,  but  it's  really  important.     (Goes  up  to  SIR 

VALENTINE,  who  is  writing)     Sir  Valentine 

SIR  V.  (very  busy  over  his  telegram).     Not  now, 
Mr.  Pote. 

POTE.  But  I  wish  to  speak  to  you. 
SIR  V.  Not  now.  I  like  orphans — I'm  very  fond 
of  orphans — but  they  really  ought  to  be  careful  whom 
they  employ  to  give  them  their  bread  and  treacle. 
(Rising^  goes  to  ALMA,  shows  her  the  telegram.)  I'll 
send  this  off  and  be  back  in  a  few  minutes. 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES         99 

ALMA  (in  a  low  voice  to  him).     And  I'll  tell  Lady  ACT  in 
Beauboys  that  I've  discovered  a  perfect  man. 

SIR  V.    Don't  make  me  out  too  perfect,  in  case 

ALMA.     But  you're  going  to  be  quite  perfect  in  the 
future,  aren't  you  ? 

SIR  V.     Oh,  quite  perfect — in  the  future. 

(Exit,  left.) 


Enter  JORGAN,  right. 

ALMA  (to  JORGAN).     Mr.  Pote  wishes  to  see  you.    i 

(Exit,  right.)    ' 

JOR.     Well,  Pote,  what  is  it? 

POTE  (very  solemn  and  important).     Mr.  Jorgan, 
I've  made  a  very  painful  discovery. 

JOR.  (ghastly).     No,  Pote,  no  ?    Not  about  me  ? 

POTE.     Yes,  Mr.  Jorgan,  about  you. 

JOR.  (collapses).     No,  Pote !     Impossible  ! 

POTE.     That's  what  I  should  have  said  six  months 
ago,  but  unfortunately  it's  only  too  true. 

JOR.     What  do  y^u  know? 

POTE.     You  remember  Eliza? 

JOK.  (freshly  alarmed).    Eliza?    No!    What  Eliza? 

POTK.     My  niect,  Eliza  Paddon.     She  stayed  in 
Pewbury  with  me  five  years  ago. 

JOR.     What  if  she  did?    What's  that  got  to  do 
with  me  ? 

POTE.      She  remembers  you,  though   you    don' 
remember  her. 


ioo        THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  ?n       JOR.     Well  ? 

POTE.  Three  months  ago  I  saw  her  in  London, 
and  she  told  me  she  had  seen  you  a  few  days  before 
in  the  company  of  a  young  woman  in  the  Edgware 
Road. 

JOR.     What  was  I  doing  ? 

POTE.  You  were  looking  into  all  the  drapers'  shop 
windows,  and  admiring  the  dresses.  I  told  her  at  the 
time  she  was  mistaken,  because  I  thought  she  was. 

JOR.     So  she  was,  Pote  !     So  she  was  ! 

POTE  (shakes  his  head}.  My  suspicions  have  been 
aroused  for  some  time  past,  especially  by  the  large 
sum  you  subscribed  to  the  widows'  home  tinee  months 
ago. 

JOR.  There  !  There  !  If  I  hadn't  been  so  con- 
scientious you  wouldn't  have  found  me  out.  It's  my 
goodness  of  heart  in  trying  to  make  amends  that  has 
ruined  me ! 

POTE  (continuing).  And  when  I  witnessed  your 
strange  conduct  with  this  person  the  day  before 
yesterday,  I  wasn't  at  all  satisfied,  so  I  went  up  to 
London  and  I  took  a  photograph  of  you  with  me. 

JOR.     What  for  i 

POTE.     For  purposes  ot  identification 

JOR.     That  was  very  underhanded  of  you,  Pote 

POTE.  We're  obliged  to  be  a  little  underhanded  in 
the  cause  of  morality  sometimes.  T  *™k  your  photo- 
graph, and  I  went  into  all  the  drapers'  shops  in  the 
neighbourhood  and  I  found  out  where  you  bought  a 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES         101 

red  satin  and  a  blue  velvet  dress.     Oh,  Mr.  Jorgan  !  ACT  in 
Oh,  Mr.  Jorgan  ! 

JOR.  (nearly  in  tears).  That's  what  I  say  to  myself, 
Pote,  a  hundred  times  a  day.  On  thinking  the  matter 
over,  I  decline  to  believe  that  I  could  have  been 
guilty.  There  must  be  some  aberration  somewhere ! 

POTE.  Yes,  in  your  conduct.  Oh,  Mr.  Jorgan ! 
Oh,  Mr.  Jorgan  ! 

JOR.  Does  anybody  suspect  me — except  your- 
self? 

POTE.  Not  at  present.  Eliza  didn't  remember 
you  sufficiently  to  be  sure,  and  your  eminent  character 
leads  her  to  suppose  she  was  mistaken. 

JOR.  She  must  have  been !  It  couldn't  have 
been  me. 

POTE.  Unfortunately,  I've  got  the  bill  of  the  red 
satin  and  the  blue  velvet  dress.  Here's  a  copy  of  it. 

(Giving  him  a  copy.) 

JOR.  {takes  it,  looks  at  if).  Do  the  shop -people 
know  who  I  am  ?  (Puts  it  in  his  pocket) 

POTE.  Not  at  present.  But  they  recognised  you 
immediately  from  your  photograph. 

JOR.     You  won't  expose  me,  Pote  ? 

POTE.  I'm  afraid  I  must  in  the  interests  of 
morality. 

JOR.  It  can't  be  for  the  interests  of  morality  for 
me  to  be  exposed.  Oh,  Pote,  you  don't  know  what  a 
moral  lesson  this  has  been  for  me — what  an  awful 
moral  lesson ! 


102        THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  in  POTE.  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,  Mr.  Jorgan,  and  I  wish 
I  could  see  my  way  to  spare  you — honestly  I  do. 

JOR.  You  will,  Pote ?  You  will?  (Crying.)  Re- 
member what  my  position  is  ! 

POTE.  Yes,  you've  always  been  such  a  professor, 
haven't  you  ?  That's  a  pity !  You  shouldn't  have 
professed  more  than  you  were  able  to  live  up  to. 

JOR.  I  always  thought  I  was  able  to  live  up  to  it. 
And  I  intend  to  for — the  future.  Do  let  things  stay 
as  they  are ! 

POTE.  But  everybody  thinks  Sir  Valentine  is 
guilty 

JOR.  Well,  that  won't  matter  to  him  so  much. 
He  has  never  professed  to  be  so  very  moral,  so  his 
character  won't  suffer  as  mine  will.  Besides,  if  he 
isn't  guilty  of  this,  you  may  depend  he's  guilty  of 
something  quite  as  bad,  if  not  worse.  You  won't 
expose  me,  Pote  ? 

POTE.  I  really  wish  I  could  see  my  way  to  spare 
you.  I  want  to  do  what  is  best  for  the  interests  of 
morality. 

JOR.  That's  it— that's  it!  Don't  make  it  a 
personal  question.  Let's  see  what  will  be  best  for 
the  interests  of  morality.  Don't  speak  loud,  Pote! 
So  many  people  are  about.  (Goes  anxiously  to  both 
doors  to  see  that  no  one  is  about.)  Now  let's  reckon 
up  what  will  happen  if  I'm  exposed.  Morality  in 
Market  Pewbury  will  receive  such  a  blow  as  it  will 
never  recover  from,  and  then  see  what  an  effect  it  will 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES        103 

have  on  our  business.     Although  we  do  cut  piices  ACT  in 
very  fine,  and  our  trade's  increasing,  yet  you  must 
remember  that  ours  is  a  very  moral  connection,  Pote; 
and  if  my  misfortune  is  known,  our  trade  will  suffer 
for  years. 

POTE.  Yes,  that's  true ;  but  I  don't  think  I  ought 
to  put  business  before  morality. 

JOR.  Certainly  not — certainly  not!  Let's  put 
morality  first.  In  spite  of  my  misfortune,  I  assure 
you,  Pote,  there  isn't  any  man  more  moral  at  heart 
than  I  am.  Well,  see  the  effect  it  will  have  on  the 
character  of  the  boot  and  shoe  trade  generally.  It 
will  distinctly  lower  our  profession  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world.  And  then  the  orphan  asylum. 

POTE.  Yes,  I  forgot.  The  first  lot  of  orphans 
arrived  at  Pewbury  at  the  same  time  that  I  did. 

JOR.     Where  are  they  ? 

POTE.  Well,  it  wouldn't  do  for  them  to  come  on 
here  whilst  things  are  in  this  dreadful  state,  would  it  ? 

JOR.     What  have  you  done  with  them  ? 

POTE.  I  sent  them  on  to  the  schoolroom,  and 
ordered  '•hem  a  bun  each ;  and  told  them  to  sing  some 
hymns  for  an  hour  or  two. 

JOR.  Poor  little  dears !  What's  to  become  of 
them? 

POTE.  Ah,  that's  what  I  want  to  know !  What  is 
to  become  of  them  ? 

JOR.  Don't  speak  so  loud,  Pote.  (Emphatically?) 
They  must  come  on  here  now.  If  you  expose  me  the 


io4       THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  in  subscriptions  will  fall  off,  and  the  orphan  asylum  will 
go  to  smash.  Don't  stand  in  the  way  of  four  hundred 
and  fifty  little  orphans,  Pote.  Don't  ruin  their  pro- 
spects. Do  let  things  stay  as  they  are.  Don't  ex- 
pose me. 

POTE.  Yes,  but  what  about  Sir  Valentine's 
character  ? 

JOR.  Don't  I  keep  on  telling  you  that  he  has 
no  special  moral  character  to  keep  up  like  I  have. 
Besides,  how  badly  he  treated  you  the  other  day.  I 
felt  quite  indignant  when  I  saw  him  pulling  your  ear. 

POTE.  Yes,  he  did  pull  my  ear,  and  he  was  quite 
insulting  to  me  just  now.  Still,  I  don't  feel  quite 
justified  in 

JOR.  Take  my  word,  you  are  quite  justified,  Pote. 
(Very  imploringly}  Say  you'll  let  things  stay  as  they 
are?  Oh,  Pote,  it  has  been  such  a  moral  lesson  to 
me !  Quite  a  blessing  in  disguise  !  It  will  enable 
me  to  be  such  a  warning  and  such  a  terror  to  evildoers 
in  the  future.  Do  keep  quiet,  and  let  us  have  a 
beautiful  happy  opening  of  our  orphanage  asylum. 
Do,  Pote,  do,  in  the  interests  of  morality ! 

POTE  (after  a  little  pause}.  Well,  perhaps,  con- 
sidering everything,  it  will  be  conducive  to  the  interests 
of  morality  if  I  hold  my  tongue. 

JOR.  (immensely  grateful}.  I'm  sure  it  will — I'm 
sure  it  will !  Then  you'll  let  things  stay  as  they  are, 
eh,  Pote? 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES        105 

SIR  VALENTINE  enters  carelessly,  left,  stands  and  looks  ACT  in 
at  them.     They  show  slight  confusion. 

POTE.  Yes,  Mr.  Jorgan,  and  I'll  fetch  the  orphans 
at  once. 

JOR.  (again  very  cheerful  and  jubilant).  Do,  Pote, 
do !  And  trust  to  me  to  bring  everything  to  a 
glorious  issue. 

(POTE  looks  at  SIR  VALENTINE,  and  sneaks 
off,  left.  SIR  VALENTINE  looks  after 
him,  comes  te  JORGAN.) 

SIR  V.  What  confounded  bit  of  rascality  are  you 
bringing  to  a  glorious  issue,  eh?  What's  going  on 
here?  Eh?  eh? 

JOR.  I'll  give  you  a  bit  of  friendly  advice,  Sir 
Valentine.  You  make  haste  and  clear  out  of  Market 
Pewbury  before  it  gets  too  hot  for  you. 

SiRV.     Ah!     How  so? 

JOR.  Public  feeling  runs  very  high  in  England  on 
questions  of  morality. 

SIR  V.  (suddenly  enlightened}.  You  scoundrel ! 
you  hypocrite ! 

JOR.     What  now  ?     What  now  ? 

SIR  V.  That  ^roman  is  your  accomplice !  Own 
it !  You've  put  her  up  to  slander  and  blackmail  me. 
Own  it!  Comes* !  (Pause.) 

JOR.  (looking  round  uneasily).  If  I  confess,  will  you 
let  me  off,  eh  ?  If  I  persuade  her  to  go  off  quiet,  will 
you  let  me  keep  my  character  ? 


io6        THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  in       SIR  V.     No,  I'll  expose  you.     Come,  own  it,  I  say ! 

(A  pause.} 

JOR.  (desperately).  I  know  nothing  of  her.  Don't 
you  try  to  palm  her  off  on  me.  Don't  you  try  to 
make  me  your  scapegoat,  it  won't  do.  All  the  town 
knows  your  history. 

SIR  V.     All  the  town  shall  know  yours. 
JOR.      It  does.      Thank  goodness,  everybody  in 
Market  Pewbury  knows  my  character.      I  think  my 
word  will  be  taken  against  yours.     But  if  you  don't 
think  so,  you  try  it  on.     Prove  what  you  say ! 

SALLY  (appears  at  door,  right,  calls  off).     Let  be 
my  luggages  !     Do  you  hear  ?    Put  down  my  luggages  ! 
(Comes  to  SIR  VALENTINE.) 

Re-enter  LADY  BEAUBOYS  and  ALMA,  right. 

SALLY.  My  Valentine !  tell  our  footmens  to  come 
and  take  my  luggages. 

LADY  B.  (speaking  off).  Take  them  outside ;  put 
them  on  the  carriage ;  drive  to  the  station,  and  send 
them  off  to  London  by  the  express  train,  carriage 
paid. 

SALLY  (looking  round,  sees  LADY  BEAUBOYS'  shawl, 
fan,  and  parasol  lying  on  the  chair  where  LADY 
BEAUBOYS  had  previously  left  them,  swoops  doiun  on 
them).  Ah ! 

(Puts  on  the  shawl,   opens  the  parasol,  fans 
herself  with  the  fan.) 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES        107 

LADY  B.     How  dare  you  !     How  dare  you  !  ACT  in 

SALLY.     Ah !   get  away,  Auntie  Beauboys.     You 

steal  my  luggages  !    Ver'  well,  I  steal  yours  !     How 

you  like  me  now,  my  Valentine  ? 

(Fanning  herself?) 

SKEWETT  enters^  left>  followed  by  BLAGG,  MODLIN, 
WAPES,  and  CORBY.  They  all  stand  surprised  and 
shocked^  looking  at  SALLY,  who  stands  fanning  her- 
self  and  twirling  round  the  parasol. 

SALLY.  Ah  !  how  do  you  do  ?  How  you  like  this 
style  all  of  you  ?  Here,  all  you  gentlemen !  How 
you  like  me  in  Auntie  Beauboys'  rags  what  she  stand 
upright  in  ? 

BLAGG.  Are  we  in  heathen  Greece  and  Rome,  or 
is  this  Market  Pewbury  ? 

MOD.     Ain't  these  your  premises  now,  Mr.  Jorgan  ? 

WAPES.  Yes,  Mr.  Jorgan,  this  ain't  the  sort  of 
thing,  you  know,  to  set  an  example  to  the  orphans. 

SKEW.  Turn  her  out!  Make  a  clean  sweep! 
Turn  her  out ! 

SIR  V.  I  think  Mr.  Jorgan  has  a  little  explanation 
to  make  with  regard  to  this  young  lady.  Come,  Mr. 
Jorgan,  own  up,  if  you  please.  Tell  your  friends  all 
your  pretty  little  story  with  this  lady. 

JOR.  (at  bay,  very  desperately).  What  do  you  think, 
gentlemen  ?  You'll  hardly  believe  it !  Sir  Valentine 
is  actually  trying  to  palm  off  his  misdemeanour  on 


io8        THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  in  me  !     Yes,  gentlemen,  he  actually  accuses  me — me—- 
of complicity  with  this  female  ! 

SIR  V.  (to  SALLY).  Come  !  Tell  the  truth  !  This 
man  has  told  you  to  accuse  me  so  that  you  may  get 
money  from  me.  Do  you  hear  ?  The  truth !  It  is 
he  who  is  guilty  ? 

SALLY.  Oh  no,  my  Valentine.  You  are  the  guilty 
party.  You  have  compromised  me.  Now  you  must 
pay  up  like  a  gentleman. 

(JORGAN  turns  triumphantly  to  his  comrades?) 

SIR  V.  (stands  for  a  moment  or  two  very  quietly, 
looks  round  contemptuously,  shrugs  his  shoulders.  Very 
long  pause.  To  ALMA).  Do  you  still  believe  me  ? 

ALMA.     Yes. 

SIR  V.  Are  you  ready  to  leave  Market  Pewbury 
at  once  ? 

ALMA.     Quite. 

SIR  V.  Auntie,  my  carriage  is  outside.  Will  you 
come  up  to  town  with  us  ? 

LADY  B.     What  for  ? 

SIR  V.  Mrs.  Suleny  and  I  are  to  be  married  to- 
morrow morning,  and  we  leave  England  to-morrow 
evening.  We  shall  want  you  to  see  us  through. 

LADY  B.     Certainly,  Valentine. 

Enter  POTE,  left. 

POTE.  The  orphans  have  arrived — they're  waiting 
outside. 

SIR  V.  (genially).     Bring  them  in,  Mr.  Pote — bring 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES        109 

them  in  !  (Takes  out  his  cigar-case  and  selects  a  cigar  ACT  HI 
very  carefully,  takes  out  match-box,  and  lights  cigar  with 
great  nonchalance,  during  the  following  speech. )  Gentle- 
men, I  regret  exceedingly  that  I've  not  been  able 
to  conform  to  the  manners  and  morals  of  Market 
Pewbury.  An  ancient  moralist,  as  you  may  remember, 
profoundly  remarked  that  when  you  go  to  Market 
Pewbury  you  must  do  as  Market  Pewbury  does. 
With  all  respect  to  you,  I'll  see  Market  Pewbury  at — 
at  Market  Pewbury  first.  I  had  a  comfortable  little 
fifteen  thousand  a  year  which  I  should  have  been 
delighted  to  have  spent  amongst  you  in  making  you 
happy.  But  I  regret  to  say  I  must  keep  that  com- 
fortable fifteen  thousand  a  year  in  my  pockets  and 
spend  it  amongst  your  more  genial  neighbours  on  the 
Continent.  (A  very  sneering,  contemptuous  laugh  from  \ 
JORGAN.)  I  leave  you  the  dust  from  my  feet,  and 
my  reputation  to  tear  to  pieces  as  you  please.  And 
I  leave  you  this  very  charming  couple,  Mr.  Jorgan 
and  Mademoiselle  Lebrune,  to  be  the  pillars  of 
morality  in  your  ancient  borough.  ( JORGAN  laughs 
again.  To  ALMA.)  Are  you  ready  ? 

ALMA.     Quite. 

SIR  V.     Now,  auntie. 

(LADY  BEAUBOYS  and  ALMA  exeunt,  left.) 

SIR  V.  (cigar  in  mouth,  looks  at  them  a  moment). 
Good-day,  gentlemen. 

(Exit.  JORGAN,  laughing  triumphantly,  watches 
htm  off.) 


I  io      THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 

ACT  in  SALLY.  He  is  gone !  (Springs  on  JORGAN'S  neck 
from  behind^  holds  htm  tightly  in  her  arms.)  Ah ! 
You  are  all  I  have  in  the  world ! 

(JORGAN'S  face,  ghastly  with  terror,  is  seen 
above  SALLY'S  arms,  which  are  tightly 
clasped  round  his  neck,  WAPES  and  the 
Others  looking  on,  surprised?) 

CURTAIN. 


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